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WHEN LONDON SLEEPS 


POPULAR NOVELS 

IN THE 

DRA.ls/1-^ SEPLIES. 

PUBLISHED BY STREET & SMITH. 


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OLD HOMESTEAD. 

THE COUNTY FAIR. 

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THE FATAL CARD. 

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CAMILLE. 

By Alexandre Dumas Fils. 

A PARISIAN ROMANCE. 

By Octave Feuillet. 

THE DANICIIEFFS. 

By Alexandre Dumas. 
THE CORSICAN BROTHERS. 

By Alexandre Dumas. 

CARMEN. 

By Prosper Merim^e. 
FORBIDDEN FRUIT. 

By Dion Boucicault. 

IN SIGHT OF ST. PAUL’S. 

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WHEN LONDON SLEEPS 


A NOVELIZATION OF THE HIGHLY SUCCESSFUL DRAMA 
BY 

CHARLES DARRELL 


PRODUCED AND NOW BEING PRESENTED THROUGHOUT 
THE COUNTRY BY 

JAS. Ho ^WALLICK Esa 



NEW YORK ^ 

STREET & SMITH, Publis^§.; ^ 

29 Rose Street 


WHEN LONDON SLEEPS. 


Thronged the city, thousands passing 
Down its noblest thoroughfare, 

Rothschilds with their millions massing, 

Elbowing want and grim despair. 

Silks and satins, ragged and anguished, 

A scream of mirth, a heart that aches. 

Rogues triumphant, honesty vanquished, 

All hurry and strife while London wakes. 

But when Big Ben, with solemn pealing. 

Proclaims its dreadful night has come. 

Fighting, cursing, killing, stealing 

Swarms brass-browed shame, the city’s scum. 
Swells and women, singing, talking, 

Through the shadows a burglar creeps, 

A scream of “Fire!” Gaunt murder stalking. 

Vice rules supreme when London sleeps. 

— Charles Darrell. 


WHILE LONDON SLEEPS 


CHAPTER I. 

THK WHITE QUEEN OE THE STACK WIRE. 

Amid the crash of music and glare of lights, en- 
• ters the leading lady of the show. 

As to her beauty, there could scarcely.be any diver- 
sity of opinion. From the crown of her well-shaped, 
rather haughtily poised head to the sole of her dainty 
foot, Queenie Carruthers, or, as she was better 
known, “The White Queen of the Slack Wire,” 
was a rarely lovely girl. Masses of golden hair grew 
low in soft waves over a broad forehead, while from 
beneath delicately marked brows looked out a pair 
of dark blue eyes that had in them all the innocence 
and candor of a child, and yet beamed with more 
than ordinary intelligence. The contour of her face 
was oval, and about her sweet mouth lingered that 
expression of spirituality which the old painters have 
given to the Madonna. 

It is not strange, therefore, that, when she ap- 
peared in the ring, clothed, as was her invariable 
custom when performing, all in white without a 
touch of color, that every woman in the audience 
should become her admirer and every man her lover. 

In spite of the fact that from a child she had 


8 THE WHITE QUEEN OF THE SLACK WIRE, 

known no other home than the circus, which is far 
from being the best school in which to bring up a 
young girl, no breath of scandal had ever touched 
the White Queen’s name. Even had it done so, one 
look into that pure face would have caused any dis- 
criminating observer to reject the tale as false. 

Both the young athlete, who, night after night 
watched her daring performance upon the wire with 
his whole soul in his gray eyes, and the stern- 
visaged, beetle-browed man, who had once come to 
the circus, out of a curiosity he despised, but could 
not resist, and wholly prejudiced, had reached the 
same conclusion in almost the same words: 

“That is a good girl if there ever was one.” 

And this opinion would have been emphatically 
coincided in by those who knew her well and had 
been her daily companions for years. 

The story of Queenie Carruthers’ origin and how 
she had come to be a performer in a circus, is a 
strange and sad one. 

One day there came to Signor Roberto Jonesio, 
otherwise plain Bob Jones, proprietor of the Grand 
Cosmopolitan Circus, a woman with a sweet, sad 
face, dressed in widow’s weeds and with a tiny six 
month’s old baby pressed to her heart. To the signor 
and his big-hearted wife, she told a sorrowful story. 

She had been a trick rider, when she attracted the 
attention of a rich and well-born gentleman, who 
made her acquaintance, won her love and finally 
married her. This union turned out to be of the hap- 
piest for both the participants, but alas, their bliss 
proved to be but short-lived. The husband died soon 


THE WHITE QUEEN OF THE SLACK WIRE, 9 

after the birth of a little girl. The family of Mr. 
Carruthers, for this was his name, had never for- 
given him fur marrying a circus rider, and, after his 
death, they entirely ignored her and refused her the 
slightest help. 

Forced to support herself and her child, the young 
widow sought to return to the ring again. 

Signor Jonesio gave her an engagement at a sti- 
pend which was not large, but sufficient for her 
modest wants. 

Under her former circus name, Mrs. Carruthers, 
“as sweet and gentle a creature as Heaven ever per- 
mitted to suffer,” as the manager’s garrulous wife 
was never tired of declaring, worked bravely on, 
striving to forget her grief in her love and care for 
her little one. But it was plain to be seen that her 
heart was fast breaking to join the dear one who had 
gone before, and just when little Queenie was able to 
lisp a childish prayer at her knee, the poor woman 
laid down her cross, and went to the land to which 
her beloved husband had preceded her. 

Signor Jonesio, to give him his self-assumed title, 
of which he was inordinately proud, wrote to Mr. 
Carruthers’ brother, a rich banker in the city, telling 
him of the whereabQuts of his little niece, and asking 
what his pleasure was concerning her. 

But no answer was ever returned to this missive. 

Then the Signora Jonesio, who would have much 
preferred to be called Mrs. Jones, took the poor, re- 
jected little waif to her motherly heart and from 
that day on made no difference between her and her 
own daughter. 


10 THE WHITE QUEEN OF THE SLACK WIRE. 

Day by day Queenie grew in beauty and intelli- 
gence. Fortunately for her, one of the ticket takers 
at the circus was a broken-down gentleman, a grad- 
uate of Oxford, whom family reverses and a too-fre- 
quent indulgence in the flowing bowl had brought 
to his present sad condition. But, in spite of his 
faults, he was a kindly old soul. He took a great 
fancy to the beautiful child and devoted all his lei- 
sure to her education, so that it happened at the time 
of his death, when Queenie was sixteen, she was 
possessed of better and more solid information than 
many a girl of her age. 

Meanwhile, probably because it had been the pro- 
fession of her mother, whose memory she wor- 
shipped, she took the greatest interest in all that ap- 
pertained to the circus, and, when her friend and tutor 
died, she was a capital rider and an expert per- 
former on the slack wire. 

The affairs of the Jonesios were then at rather a 
low ebb. Business had not been good, and the pros- 
pects for the future were of a decidedly cerulean 
hue. 

Then Queenie announced her determination to ap- 
pear in a professional capacity. 

“I cannot be a burden upon' you any longer,^’ she 
said. “I am able now to make my own living and 
to help you.’’ 

“Nonsense, dear !” sputtered the signora, indig- 
nantly. “You’ve repaid us a hundred times by the 
sunshine you’ve brought into our lives.” 

“And what have you been to me?” replied 
Queenie, tears of affection and gratitude starting to 


THE WHITE QUEEN OF THE SLACK WIRE, 11 

her eyes. ‘‘What would have become of me if it had 
not been for you? Ah, Heaven has indeed been 
kind to me. In depriving me of one mother, it gave 
me another.” 

The signora — (no, we will not call her that any 
more, but by the homely name which is far more 
suitable to her) — Mrs. Jones, then — did her best to 
persuade the young girl to abandon her intention, 
but Queenie, who was possessed of considerable firm- 
ness when once her mind was made up, persisted, 
and finally won her point. 

This result caused unmixed delight to the mana- 
ger, who, though by no means a bad fellow, was far 
from being so unselfish as his wife. He saw a chance 
of replenishing his depleted coffers, and at once set 
to work to perfect Queenie’s circus education. 

First, however, he wrote again to Banker Carru- 
thers, telling him of Queenie’s intention to enter the 
ring. This letter met with no better fate than that 
of half a score of years before. 

In due time “The White Queen of the Slack 
Wire,” by which title it was decided that Queenie 
should be known to the public, made her debut, and 
it proved more successful even than their most san- 
guine hopes. 

Accustomed as she had been from childhood to the 
more or less perilous feats which she" attempted, she 
was absolutely without fear, and this, combined 
with her remarkable beauty of face and figure, made 
her a pronounced favorite from the first. 

Business at once improved materially, and little by 
little, the Grand Cosmopolitan Circus, which had 


12 THE WHITE QUEEN OF THE SLACK WIFE. 

sunk to a show of which even the manager himself 
was ashamed, began to assume something of its for- 
mer magnificence. 

A few of the old performers were retained, and 
among them of course the Jonesio’s daughter, a 
pretty girl of eighteen or nineteen, who, moreover, 
was a rider of no mean ability, 

A great many new ones, however, were engaged, 
and among them two artists of the first order, who, 
as they are destined to play important parts in this 
story, deserve some description. 

Place aux dames! 

Miss Hilda Corrode performed what is known in 
circus parlance as the “manege act” ; that is, instead 
of appearing in short gauze skirts, plentifully 
bespangled, leaping over bars and through hoops, or 
plunging wildly round the ring standing erect upon 
a “fiery, untamed steed,” she appeared in an irre- 
proachable riding habit, gloves, high hat and all, and 
gave an imitation of a lady in the hunting field, in- 
cluding the leaping of five-barred gates. Miss Cor- 
rode was a strikingly handsome w’oman of the Italian 
type of beauty, purple-black hair, large dark eyes, 
and a brilliant color. She was not precisely in her 
first youth, being in the neighborhood of twenty- 
eight, and she gave one the impression of a woman 
who had been through numerous experiences and 
thoroughly knew life in its various phases. To her 
associates she was haughty and domineering, and 
her temper was such that few cared to arouse it. 

The other artist to whom we have alluded was a 
young man of about thirty, David Engleheart by 


THE WHITE QUEEN OF THE SLACK WIRE. 13 

name. He was a handsome fellow, of superb 
physique, with muscles of steel, and not an ounce of 
superfluous flesh upon his lithe, graceful figure. His 
specialty was the flying trapeze, and there were few 
who could equal him in his dangerous feats. He was 
something of a mystery in the company, as, though 
invariably courteous to all, he was inclined to hold 
himself somewhat aloof, and was a man of rather 
more than ordinary refinement and cultivation, 
which is not the case with the usual run of acrobats. 

He it was whose gray eyes were accustomed to fol- 
low Queenie night after night during her perform- 
ance, a fact which had not passed unnoticed by the 
object of the gaze herself, nor by one or two others, 
who were affected by it more, or less profoundly. 

But, in spite of these new acquisitions, “The 
White Queen of the Slack Wire’’ still remained the 
bright particular star of Jonesio’s Grand Cosmopoli- 
tan Circus. 


u 


THE BOUNDING BBOTHEBS. i 


CHAPTER IL 

THE BOUNDING BROTHERS. 

And now that the principal performers are known, 
we will introduce the reader into the side tent, a sort 
of green room of the circus, a favor which we trust 
will be fully appreciated, as the portly Mrs. Jones is 
always on guard there during the hours of perform- 
ance, ready to repel vigorously any importunate intru- 
der. 

It is an odd place, with its canvas walls covered 
with files of bills and posters, and with banners, 
flags, hoops and the general paraphernalia of the 
ring scattered about in picturesque confusion. A 
couple of naptha lamps hung from the roof dimly 
illumine the place, save at one end where a flood of 
light pours in through an archway hung with drap- 
eries of the most brilliant colors. This is the entrance 
to the ring. There are two other openings to the 
tent, one leading to the dressing rooms, and the 
other to the stables. 

A strong odor of tanbark pervades the whole struc- 
ture. 

When we first enter this holy of holies, its presid- 
ing genius, the ubiquitous Mrs. Jones, is there, stand- 
ing, screened by the draperies, gazing smilingly out 
into the performance tent, which is ringing with 
applause. 

The worthy woman has good reason to feel 


THE BOUNDING BROTHERS, 15 

pleased, for the house is a fair one, and her daugh- 
ter has met with considerable success to-night. 

As she stands there, her husband dressed in the 
uniform of a ring-master, appears, leading a high- 
stepping, dappled horse, upon the back of which is 
seated a pretty,' bright-faced girl, in voluminous 
skirts and low-necked, short-sleeved bodice of pink 
tulle. 

“Bravo! bravo! my dear!” exclaimed the proud 
father as he assisted his daughter to alight, and with 
a chirp started the horse off toward the stable 
“Bravissimo, as they say in my native Italy. You’ve 
knocked ’em sky-high. A leetle more dash, a few 
more tips from yours truly, and you’ll find yourself 
at the Paris Hippodrome, my love.” 

“Oh, pa, how you talk!” cried Carrie, laughing 
and blushing, as she hurried off to the dressing tent, 

“How’s the house. Bob?” asked Mrs. Jones, prac- 
tically, as she came forward to his side. 

“Might be worse, mother. But we’ll have a big 
house for Queenie’s benefit Friday. Multo! Multo 
largissimo, as they say in my native Italy.” 

Mrs. Jones laughed a little impatiently. She never 
did have much sympathy with her husband’s preten- 
sions to foreign birth. 

“For goodness’ sake. Bob,” she said, deprecat- 
ingly, but not ill-naturedly, “drop that when you’re 
in the bosom of your family. You don’t suppose 
that changing your name from plain Robert Jones to 
Signor Roberto Jonesio will change your nationality, 
do you ?” 


16 THE BOUNDING BBOTHERS. 

“I ain’t such a fool as that,” acknowledged the 
manager, with no less good humor. 

In fact, no matter how he might swear and scold 
at his employees, he was never known to be out of 
temper with his better half. It was whispered about 
the circus that this was because she was decidedly 
the stronger of the two, but this insinuation may be 
safely looked upon as a malicious slander. 

“But I do know,” he continued, “that talent in 
England is no good without a foreign name tacked 
toit. ” 

“Well, Bob, you may put as many O’sand lO’s to 
yours as you please, but no one will ever mistake you 
for a foreigner. There’s Eondon written on every 
line of your face, and the Whitechapel cockney 
sounds in every word that falls from your blessed 
lips. ” 

This sort of talk was quite familiar to Jones — we 
beg his pardon, Jonesio — and he was not in the least 
offended. 

“Well, mother,” he ejaculated, “I always said, 
and always will maintain, that you’re the best 
woman to take the conceit out of a bloke I ever 

knew. If he ” , 

i He broke off short, interrupting himself, as he saw 
several of the stable hands in the doorway, snicker- 
ing to themselves at what they would have termed a 
dressing-down from the missus. 

This was more than flesh and blood could bear, 
and Jonesio snapped his whip at them, ordering them 
to be off, declaring that he would not stand any of 
their impudence any way. 


THE BOUNDING BROTHERS. 


17 


He was obeyed without a iiiuniiiir, for, in spite of 
their master’s occasional outbreaks, they had a good 
position, and they knew it. 

“Codding their manager!” exclaimed Jonesio, 
turning irritably to his wife. “What’s the profession 
coming to?” 

Mrs. Jones, who was essentially a peacemaker, 
made no reply to this, but instead, asked another 
question. 

“What’s on in the ring?” 

“The Bounding Brothers of Breathless Space are 
just giving their Marvelous Manifestations of Manly 
Muscularity,” replied Jonesio, pompously. 

He was something of a Barnum in his small way, 
and he had become so accustomed to gull the public 
with high sounding phrases that he never could quite 
rid himself of making use of them even when there 
was not the slightest necessity for it. 

Mrs. Jones sighed, and glanced toward the brightly 
lighted opening, with a certain look of worry upon 
her round, still comely face. 

“Poor Sammy!” slie ejaculated. “I wonder how 
he’ll get on with the Italian. It’s his first trial in 
the tumbling business.” 

There was a fire in Signor Jonesio’s eyes which 
boded ill for “poor Sammy” if anything should 
chance to go wrong, and, when he spoke, his words 
accorded with his expression. 

“If Mr. Samuel Blyth doesn’t smarten up a bit, he 
and yours truly will have to bid each other O, river, 
as they say in my native Italy. He makes a mess of 
everything he goes in for. Why don’t he write to his 


IB THE BOUNDING BBOTHEBS. 

governor in the city, and ask for his old seat on the 
office stool again?” 

The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when 
there came a loud crash from the ring, accompanied 
by a howl of pain. This was immediately followed 
by hissings and hootings from the audience. 

‘‘Good gracious!” exclaimed Mrs. Jones, turning 
pale. “What’s that?” 

“I told you sol” ejaculated her husband. “One of 
the Bounding Brothers of Breathless Space has come 
a cropper. ” 

And he hurried forward to see what was the mat- 
ter, but, before he could reach the entrance to the 
ring, a most pitiable object came stumbling through 
the curtains. 

This object was a young man in acrobat’s dress, 
covered with dirt and bleeding profusely at the nose. 

And here it just occurs to us that we owe Mr. 
Samuel Blythe an apology. In our enumeration of 
the talent attached to the Grand Cosmopolitan Cir- 
cus, we have entirely overlooked one, who, in his 
own opinion at least, was one of its shining lights. 
But it is not too late yet. He shall receive ample 
amends. 

Mr. Samuel Blythe was formerly a junior clerk in 
an office in the city. In an evil hour, or a fortunate 
one, just as you choose to consider it, he went to 
Ramsgate to spend his holidays, and Signor Jonesio’s 
circus happeired to be pitched just then at that 
famous seaside resort. Of course Samuel, or, as he 
was known to his intimates, Sammy, attended the 


THE BOUNDING BROTHERS. 


19 


show, and before it was half over had promptly and 
irretrievably fallen in love. 

As he expressed it afterward to the object of his 
infatuation : 

“Oh! Carrie! Carrie! Never shall I forget how at 
the first sight of you as you bounded into the ring, 
my heart leaped up into my mouth. I swallowed my 
heart again, but I had no right to, for it was no 
longer mine. And then, as I saw you bounding over 
banners and jumping through paper hoops, I could 
contain myself no longer, and I cried out: ‘I love 
her! I love her! She must and shall be mine!’ 
Then everybody called out ‘Rats!’ and I got chucked 
out. ” 

“And served you right for making such an idiot 
of yourself,’’ was Carrie’s unfeeling response. 

However, his treatment at the circus, when his 
feelings got ' so much the better of him, did not 
dampen the love-lorn Sammy’s ardor. The next day 
lie wrote to Signor Jonesio, asking for an engage^- 
ment, and inclosing a photograph, which, by some 
inadvertancy, happened to be that of Sandow. 

Jonesio granted him an interview, and it is easier 
to imagine than describe the disappointment and dis- 
gust of that worthy impressario when he saw the 
undersized and by no means muscular Mr. Samuel 
Blythe. 

It might have fared badly with the adventurous 
youth had not Carrie happened to be present, and, 
moved by pity, had pleaded with her father to give 
him a trial. She had of course been a witness of the 
scene the night before, and knew its cause, and per- 


20 


THE BOUNDING BROTHERS. 


haps this had something to do with her intercession, 
for no woman can help but take some interest, how- 
ever slight it may be, in the man whom she has 
inspired with a passionate admiration. 

However this may be, Jonesio, who could rarely 
refuse his daughter anything, at last consented and 
gave Sammy a position at a nominal salary. 

It is needless to say that pretty Carrie became 
more than ever the star of the foolish youth’s adora- 
tion. 

But, in the pursuit of the new profession he had 
adopted, things did not go well with him. He was 
physically unsuited to be an athlete, and now the 
first time he was called upon to take a part of any 
prominence owing to the illness of one of the per- 
formers, he had failed shamefully and ignominiously. 

“What’s all this?” exclaimed Jones, wrathfully, 
as Sammy entered the side tent. 

The dilapidated youth wiped the blood from his 
face, and answered dolefully: 

“Ask that miserable peanut merchant you sent me 
in with. Took at my nose!” 

“My poor lad, did you tumble?” asked Mrs. 
Jones, compassionately, her big heart making her 
forget all other consideration. 

“Tumble! That infernal hokey-pokey foreigner 
let me shoot through the air until I thought I should 
never reach earth again without seeing my latter 
end.” 

“Poor boy! You are in a stale! I’ll go and get you 
some warm water and sticking plaster. Now, don’t 
iSCold him too much, Bob! Mind that!” 


THE BOUNDING BROTHERS. 


21 


And the good woman hurried away on charitable 
thoughts intent. 

But, in spite of his wife’s injunction, Jonesio could 
not quite restrain his righteous indignation. 

“You’re a nice chap to give away a respectable 
traveling circus!” he exclaimed, disgustedly. 
“There ain’t been a blessed thing you’ve gone in for 
that ain’t got the goose.” 

As if in answer to his words, the sound of the bird 
to which he referred again rose from the perform- 
ance tent, and with a smothered oath the manager 
hurried way to quell the displeasure of the audience 
with one of those wheedling speeches at which long 
experience had made him an adept. 

As he passed through the entrance, he nearly col- 
lided with an individual who rushed past him. 

The new-comer was a thin, swarthy Italian acro- 
bat. He was evidently in great excitement and gestic- 
ulating violently, as indeed he had reason to do, 
for he was none other than Signor Stefano Mordi- 
cano, Sammy’s recent unfortunate partner, the other 
Boneless Brother. 

Meanwhile Sammy had seated himself upon a big 
drum, and was dejectedly attempting to stanch the 
blood which was flowing from his injured nose. 

The instant the Italian caught sight of him, he 
rushed frantically toward him. 

“Ah, it ees you!” he cried in a shrill falsetto, 
thrusting out his fingers^lmost into Sammy’s face. 
“It ees you who haf insult me, you, who haf got 
me, Stefano Mordicano the — vat you call hees. ” 

Now Sammy, whatever his physical disabilities 


22 THE, BOUNDING BEOTHEBS. 

might be, was no coward, and he promptly struck 
away the Italian’s hand, at the same time rising to 
his feet. 

“Don’t stick your finger in my eye!” he com- 
manded, wrathfully. “What d’ye mean? Got you 
the bees? Look what you’ve got me, my nose run 
all over my face, and my manly beauty spoilt for- 
ever. ’ ’ 

Beside himself with rage, Mordicano hissed: 

“I vill have vat you call ze satisfaction I You shall 
fight me. ” 

“Oh, go and eat coke!” retorted Sammy, disdain- 
fully. 

“No, sare, I vill not eat coke! You get me ze 
hees! You make ze people laugh at me! me Stefano 
Mordicano, and I vill have your blood!” 

And, half crazy with passion, the Italian com- 
menced to dance about in the most absurd and yet 
threatening manner possible. 

“Oh, vill you have blood?” repeated Sammy, imi- 
tating him impudently. “How will you get it? 
Well, you’ve had enough of mine to-night already. 
I’ve only got a few drops left, and them I’m going 
to keep to myself. ” 

“No! no!” shrieked Mordicano so loudly that it is 
a wonder his voice was not heard in the ring above 
the blare of the brass band which had begun to play 
again. “I vill kill you! You got me the hees, you 
shall die!” 

Sammy made a gesture of contempt, more expres- 
sive than refined. 

“Oh, go away, little boy, go and play!” 


THE BOUNDING BROTHERS, 


23 


“No, I vill not play. I know not how. I not do 
anything till you fight me. What are your weapons, 
sare?” 

Sammy calmly clinched his fists and raised them 
in approved pugilistic attitude. 

“Oh, my dooks are good enough for me.’’ 

“Ah! anozer insult! Sare, I fight with stilettoes!” 

Sammy was heartily weary of all this business, and 
was beginning to lose his temper as well. There 
was lots of grit in the little fellow, and he was not 
.in the least afraid of the Italian, or alarmed at his 
bloodthirsty propositions. 

“Oh, you do?” he retorted, tauntingly. “Well, 
I’m not taking any. You see, in my country, we 
don’t wait round dark corners with a big hat and a 
long cloak so nobody shall know us, and then, when 
our enemy’s back’s turned, give him a few inches of 
cold steel. We stand up, face to face, and use our 
fists, ” putting the action into words so far as he 
could by himself. “And when one of us has got a 
jolly good hiding, we shake hands and try to be 
friends once more. ” 

But this was a style of fighting which the Italian 
did not understand in the least, and it is more than 
doubtful if he would have stood up to a square bout 
with the naked fists. 

“Gentlemen no fi-;ht that-a way!” he exclaimed, 
with a fine show of scorn. “Me, Stefano Mordicano! 
Me! Nevare! You get me the hees! I kill you, you 
Anglish pig!” 

This epithet was too much for Sammy, and he 
determined not to delay much longer before proceed- 


24 


THE BOUNEim BBOTHEBS. 


ing to hostilities. But he would give his tormentor 
just one more warning. 

“Now look here, Count Macaroni,” he cried, so 
fiercely that the Italian jumped back, “I’ve stood 
your blooming cheek long enough, and, if you won’t 
shut your jaw. I’ll shut your eyes, and so alter the 
shape of your ugly phiz that when you go back with 
yc>ur peanut barrow your dear mamma won’t know 
her feufano Mordicano, Lord knows what O. ” 

With a gtowl, Mordicano made toward the dress- 
ing tent, hissing something about a stiletto. 

“No, you don’t !” shouted Sammy, jumping in 
front of him and squaring off excitedly. 

It is doubtful how the thing would have ended, 
had not a third person just at that juncture appeared 
upon the scene. 


A BIT OF A COQUETTE. 


25 


CHAPTER III. 

A BIT OF A COQUETTE. 

This third person was Miss Carrie Jones, who came 
from the dressing tent. She had changed her circus 
costume, and was now arrayed in a neat gown of 
gray, looking, if anything, prettier than she had in 
her gauze and tinsel. 

“Whatever is the matter?’^ she exclaimed, push- 
ing Sammy aside and stepping between him and the 
man he was trying to force to be his combatant. 

Then, as she caught sight of his damaged counte- 
nance, she burst into an irrepressible and hearty peal 
of laughter. 

Sammy looked at her in a manner that was meant 
to be reproachful, but was 'simply comical, and only 
served to increase her merriment. 

Then the Italian joined in. 

“Ha! ha! ha!” he chuckled, provokingly. “The 
beautiful signorina, she laugh at you, at your ugly 
face. I too laugh! Ha! ha! ha!” 

Exasperated beyond measure, Sammy again 
squared off at him. 

“Eaugh at me, you saffron-colored moocher!” he 
began, threateningly. “I’ll ” 

But Carrie again put a stop to the contemplated 
hostilities. 


26 


BIT OF A COQUETTE. 


‘^No, Sammy Blytlie, ’’ she interrupted, with a 
commanding gesture, ‘‘you shan’t strike him. 

Remember, he’s only a poor foreigner.” 

The wound to Sammy’s vanity was considerably 
eased by these last words, which seemed to place 
him on a superior plane to the other. He lowered his 
arm, but, nevertheless, he could not refrain from 
saying, with a scowl at Mordicano: 

“Well, then, don’t let him be so blooming impu- 
dent. We English stand a lot if sauce from these 
poor foreigners, as you call them, for a time, but 
when it gets a bit too thick, and they see they’ve 
trod upon the lion’s tail, they’re precious quick in 
scuttling back to their burrows again. You’ve had 
my ultimatum, Mr. Hurdy Gurdy, and don’t you 
forget it !” 

But Mordicano was scarcely listening to him. He 
was too occupied in gazing at Carrie, whose pretty face 
had long ago made an impression upon his suscepti- 
ble nature. 

“Ah, adorable mees!” he exclaimed with an ex- 
travagance of admiration which made Sammy grind 
his teeth with rage. “You plead for the poor for- 
eigner! The Italiano kneels to you, and worships 
your goodness and beauty.” 

“Here,” interrupted Sammy, touching Carrie 
imploringly upon the arm, “do you allow it to cackle 
to you like tliat?” 

Carrie looked from one to the other with a little 
smile upon her lips. It must be confessed that the 
fair Miss Jones was just a bit of a coquette. 

“Well,” she said at last, very demurely, “why 


A BIT OF A COQUETTE. 27 

not? I’m sure he’s very much in earnest, and not at 
all bad-looking. ” 

The Italian clasped his hands in ecstasy, which 
made Sammy fairly snort with disgust. 

“Well, of course,” he said, with an elaborate at- 
tempt at withering satire, “of course, beauty is a 
matter of taste, as the old woman said, but if I had a 
face like that, I’d take it out on the road and break 
stones with it. ” 

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Carrie, delighting in her 
power to tease him. “lyook at the color of your 
own.” 

This was rather hard, and Sammy felt it to be so, 
but Mordicano of course was overjoyed. 

“’Tis well !” he exclaimed, exultantly. “You turn 
from him with his nose like von butcher’s shop. Ah ! 
angel !” turning again to hyperbole, “I love you,. I 
adore you ! Fly with me to Sunny Italy ! There we 
will go hand in hand through orange groves, and I 
will worship you by the blue ocean of my dear native 
country.” 

This was altogether too much for Sammy. What, 
would he allow this miserable foreigner to make love 
before his e3^es to the girl for whose sake he himself 
had sacrificed everything? Never in the world ! 

Sneaking round behind Carrie, he suddenly seized ^ 
Mordicano by the collar and swung him round with 
all his strength. Then, in spite of his struggles, he 
held him until he had had his say. 

“Now look here, you’ve tired me out. I forgive 
you damaging my beauty and spoiling my clothes, 
but when you make love to my best girl, my cock- 


28 


A BIT OF A COQUETTE. 


iiey blood can stand no more! So, in the language 
of Yankee land, git!” 

And with this he gave him a thrust, and no gen- 
tle one at that, which sent him flying headlong 
toward the dressing tent. 

Fairly foaming at the mouth, the Italian gathered 
himself together, and, turning about, faced his as- 
sailant, although still at a safe distance from him. 

‘‘Oh, do not! do not!” pleaded Carrie, now 
alarmed, and turning first to the one and then to the 
other. “Go, Signor Mordicano, go!” 

“Git!” repeated Sammy, tersely. 

“I obey your wishes, signorina,” said the Italian, 
turning upon his heel and vanishing. 

To tell the truth, he was only too glad to escape 
so easily, but he went, swearing vengeance in his 
heart. 

Carrie turned toward Sammy and smiled. She had 
never respected the homely little fellow so much in 
her life. There is nothing a woman admires so much 
in the opposite sex as physical bravery, and, per con- 
tra, nothing she despises so much as cowardice. No 
intellectual attainments in the world will make up 
for the latter. 

“So perish the foreign invader who would under- 
sell British talent!” exclaimed Sammy, melodramat- 
ically, striking an attitude. 

The pretty girl by his side laughed. 

“You’re a nice one to talk about talent!” she 
retorted. “Who ever told you that you were an ath- 
lete?” 


A BIT OF A COQUETTE. 


29 


Sammy looked ruefully down over his torn and 
dirty garments. 

“All my pals in the office where I was clerk,” he 
replied, shamefacedly. “I begin to think now they 
wer^ codding me; but I shall have to stick it out as 
long as it sticks to me, for my old employer will 
never take me back now. Besides, you know very 
well that it wasn’t only the glitter of the ring that 
drew me here. ” 

Carrie understood perfectly well what he meant, 
but still she preferred to affect unconsciousness. 

“What was it then, Sammy?” she asked, opening 
her eyes wide in pretended wonder. 

Sammy drew a little nearer to her. 

“Oh, Carrie, how can you ask?” he exclaimed, 
reproachfully. “Of course, it was you!” 

“Dear me!” 

Carrie turned upon him a look which would cer- 
tainly have emboldened him to a still more ardent 
declaration, but unfortunately, before he could pro- 
ceed further, both the manager and Mrs. Jones came 
into the tent, the former from the ring, where he 
had been superintending the performance of Prince 
Hafiz Surga, alias Fitzsimmons, in his peerless pirou- 
ettes and postures upon the enchanted ball ; and the 
latter from the dressing rooms with a towel, a basin 
of hot water, and a piece of sticking plaster in her 
hands. 

Jonesio was in high good humor, and had evi- 
dently forgotten the contretemps of the Bounding 
Brothers. 


30 


A BIT OF A GIQUETTE. 


“The house has picked up wonderfully, mother,” 
he said, “at half time. They know our Queenie 
don’t appear till late, so they hang back. It’s a mis- 
take. We’ll have to give her an earlier turn.” 

“Bless her!” replied Mrs. Jones, fervently. “I 
don’t know how the circus would get on without 
her. What’s on now?” 

“Ten minutes interval.” 

Mrs. Jones turned toward Sammy with as severe 
an expression as her pleasant face could assume. His 
attentions to Carrie had not escaped her, and she was 
not pleased with them, for she looked much higher 
for her daughter, which was only natural. 

“Here, Sammy,” she said, coldly, “when you’ve 
done with our Carrie, perhaps you’ll go to your dress- 
ing tent and wash your face. Here’s some hot water 
and a bit of plaster for you.” 

Sammy took the articles and was about to move off 
when Jonesio called to him. 

“Hurry up, Blythe. Funny Freddie has got too 
much booze again, and you’ll have to clown it for 
Miss Corrode.” 

Sammy shivered. He felt that he had had quite 
enough experience of the ring for one evening. 

“I don’t know anything about clowning,” he said, 
sulkily. “Never clowned in my life.” 

“Oh, be just as funny as you are when you try to 
be a graceful athlete,” said Jonesio, cheerfully, “and 
the audience will die of laughing.” 

“Thanks. Sorry ! don’t suit.” 

He looked so woe-begone that Carrie took pity 
upon him. 


A BIT OF A COQUETTE, 


31 


‘‘Never mind, Sammy,’’ she said, kindly. “Give 
me the basin, and I’ll wash your face for you and 
give you one or two tips at the same time.” 

As she spoke, she took the basin from him, and 
led him away to a remote corner of the tent, where 
they would be out of the way of the artists who were 
beginning to arrive in time for the second part of the 
programme. Mrs. Jones followed them with a rather 
anxious eye. She was beginning to ask herself if 
Carrie could care anything for that insignificant little 
fellow, but she was a woman wise in her generation, 
and she did not speak. She knew that there was 
nothing so potent as opposition to bring into flower a 
budding love. 

Carrie made Sammy sit down upon a heap of car- 
pets, and then proceeded to carry her promise into 
operation. Soon his besmeared face was quite pre- 
sentable, and he looked more like his former self. 

“Thank you, Carrie. You’re very good to me,” lie 
said, gratefully. “In fact, you’re all of you good to 
me. Somehow, your father seems to stick to me, al- 
though I expect every Saturday to get the bounce. 
But,” with sudden determination, “I don’t mind 
what I go through, Carrie, if only you’ll care for me 
a little. ” 

“What on earth’s the use of talking about that?” 
responded Carrie, blushing a little in spite of herself. 
And then, moved by the spirit of mischief which was 
inherent in her, she added, with a sly glance to mark 
the effect of her words: “If you were only like Dave 
Engleheart now !” 

But in this case she was out of her reckoning. 


32 


A BIT OF A COQUETTE, 


David Engleheart was the one man she could not 
make Sammy jealous of. The handsome young ath- 
lete had been the only man in the whole show to 
speak an encouraging word and lend a helping hand 
to the awkward young amateur; and Sammy Blythe, 
full of faults though he may have been, possessed 
that rarest of all virtues — gratitude. 

‘‘Ah, I shall never be like that, Carrie,” he 
answered regretfully, but with no tinge of envy. 
“He’s one in a thousand, is good old Dave. As brave 
as a lion, as gentle as a lamb, and one of the whitest 
men it’s ever been my luck to know. I’d go through 
fire and water for him!” 

Carrie was touched. She liked this loyalty in 
Sammy, but still she could not resist the temptation 
to make a further attempt at teasing him. 

“Yes, Sammy,” she assented. “And doesn’t the 
name they call him seem just to suit him? The Star 
of the Air! As he flies through space, he looks just 
like one of those marble demigods you see at the 
Crystal Palace.” 

Sammy was silent for a moment, and then he said 
sadly and disconsolately ; 

“Sometimes I think I’m a fool for making up to 
you. As though I should have an earthly chance 
beside him.” 

Carrie shook her brown curls as if to say that he 
certainly would not. But then she took pity upon 
him, and remarked in a tone in which there was a 
certain note of encouragement. 

“You see, unfortunately, some of us poor women 


A BIT OF A COQUETTE. 


33 


have very bad taste, and lose our hearts to undersized 
little monkeys.” 

Poor Sammy did not know whether to feel 
pleased or not. She seemed to imply that she might 
care for him, but yet she characterized him as an 
undersized little monkey. 

“Thanks. Sorry I don’t suit, ” he said at last, 
lamely, falling back upon the phrase which was a 
part of his stock in trade. 

“Besides,” suggested Carrie, “there’s no hope for 
me so far as Dave Engleheart is concerned. There’s 
some one else. ” 

“Yes, I know,” answered Sammy, quickly. “And 
isn’t she mashed !” 

Carrie flashed upon him an indignant glance. 

“Nothing of the kind!” she replied, quick to 
defend one of her own sex, at least one whom she 
cared for. “She has too much good sense to let 
everybody read her heart. We two girls have been 
together all our lives, and I love her as a sister.” 

Sammy looked up in boundless surprise. 

“What! Hilda Corrode?” he exclaimed. 

“Hilda Corrode !” in tones of scorn. “Certainly 
not! I detest Hilda Corrode! I mean my beautiful 
Queenie, of course. ’ ’ 

Sammy gave vent to a low whistle. 

“What! is she spoons on him, too? Oh, Christo- 
pher Columbus !” 

“Don’t be vulgar!” reproved Carrie, severely. 
She paused a moment, and then went on in an 
entirely different tone: “It will grieve me to part 


A BIT OF A COQUETTE. 


34 

with my dear little playmate, but Dave is a good man 
and will make her a happy woman.’’ 

“But haven’t you noticed that Hilda Corrode is 
gone on him, too?” ventured Sammy. 

It was Carrie’s turn to be surprised. 

“Good gracious, no!” she exclaimed. 

“Well, you must be blind! Why, her eyes are 
bursting out of her head with it. She follows him 
like his shadow, and is as eager for a look or a kind 
word as a dog for a bone. ” 

Dike a flash Carrie reviewed what had passed under 
her eyes, but what she had never put the right inter- 
pretation upon. She realized that Sammy was right, 
and she wondered at her own blindness in not having 
discovered it for herself long before. 

“Just you keep your eyes open, Carrie!” proceeded 
Sammy, impressively. “Mark my words! Before 
long there’ll be an explosion in Signor Roberto 
Jonesio’s Grand Cosmopolitan Circus!” 


A WOMAN WITH A PAST. 


35 


CHAPTER IV. 

A WOMAN WITH A PAST. 

“Oh, Queenie, you’re a picture to-night!” 

And Carrie clasped her hands ecstatically together 
as she gazed admiringly at her friend. 

There was another, too, who v/as looking at the 
beautiful girl with something more than admiration 
in his gray eyes, for Dave Engleheart, dressed for 
his act, was waiting in.his accustomed place close to 
the entrance. 

The interval was nearly over, and it was almost 
time for the appearance of the White Queen of the 
Slack Wire. 

Queenie had just entered the waiting tent, and she 
certainly deserved all the encomiums that Carrie or 
any one else could have lavished upon her. 

She wore a new costume to-night, but as usml all 
white, satin and pearls. The bodice was high in the 
neck, but her beautiful arms were exposed in all 
their exquisite symmetry. The clothing of her 
nether limbs was as modest as possible where all 
superfluous drapery would have been dangerous. 

In her bosom she wore a- white rose, and another 
nestled in the coils of her golden hair. As Dave 
Engleheart noticed this his heart thrilled with de- 
light, for the roses had been his gift. 


A WOMAN WITH A PAST 


SS 

‘‘It’s all right, mother, dear,” said Queenie to 
Mrs. Jones, referring to her dress. “You’ve made it 
beautifully.” 

“Yes, I think it will do,” remarked Mrs. Jones, 
after a critical survey of her handiwork. And then 
she kissed Queenie tenderly. “You know I always 
try to do something for you on this day. You re- 
member what day it is?” 

A shade of sadness stole over the lovely face. 

“As if I could forget!” she said, a little reproach- 
fully, and then added, reverently, “On this day 
fifteen years ago, my poor mother died.” 

“Fifteen years ago!” repeated Mrs. Jones, her 
thoughts reverting to the past. “How time does fly, 
to be sure?” 

“Do you remember her, Queenie?” asked Carrie. 

“Only very dimly. I was not four years old when 
she died, you know. But sometimes, when I dream, 
there smiles upon me a fair young face framed in a 
warm halo of red-gold hair. I feel her kiss upon my 
brow, and in my sleep I murmur, ‘Mother!’ But,” 
turning affectionately to Mrs Jones, “when I awake 
I thank Heaven that I have you, and I bless you all 
for what you have done for me.” 

“Nonsense, Queenie, dear,” protested Carrie, 
warmly. “Remember what you have done for us. 
took what a favorite you are, and a big draw in 
every town we go to.” 

Mrs. Jones smiled acquiescence, but said, know- 
ingly : 

“Ah ! but I’m afraid we shall be losing our little 
magnet soon.” 


r 


A WOMAN WITH A PAST. 


37 


‘%osing me, mother!” exclaimed Queenie in 
surprise. “Why, what da you mean ?” 

Mrs. Jones glanced over toward where Dave 
Engleheart stood. 

“Why, when a certain tall, fine young fellow 
claims a certain little White Queen for his wife, 
perhaps he’ll take her far away from the old folks 
that love her so. ” 

The color had mounted to Queenie’s cheeks until 
she was blushing like a rose. 

“Oh, mother,” she murmured, “Mr. Engleheart 
has never said a word of such a thing!” 

Mrs. Jones laughed, and her fat sides still 
shaking, walked over to the ring entrance. 

“Wish I could say the same of my young man,” 
said Carrie, half seriously, half humorously. 

“Poor Sammy,” rejoined Queenie, who really 
liked the little fellow, and who lately had a peculiar 
sympathy for any one genuinely in love. “Oh, 
Carrie, do be kind to him ! I’m sure his heart’s in 
the right place.” 

“That’s more than can be said of his brains,” 
said Carrie, with a greater show of contempt than 
she really felt. 

“Queenie!” called Mrs. Jones, “that’s the music 
for your turn. Come, dear.” 

Queenie hurried away, but just as she, reached the 
entrance she paused a moment and looking up into 
the handsome, clear-cut face above her, said, softly : 

“Thank you so much for the flowers!” 

“And thank you for wearing them,” he answered, 


38 


A W03£AN WITH A PAST. 


his eyes speaking all that his tongue had not yet 
uttered. 

A thunderous burst of applause greeted the ap- 
pearance of the popular favorite, and, after her 
graceful, daring performance she was recalled again 
and again. * 

At last the enthusiastic audience permitted her to 
retire to her dressing tent, but before she did so she 
found an opportunity to speak again to Dave, and to 
ask him to be careful. She knew he was doing a 
new feat that night in which there was considerable 
danger. 

“Would you care,’^ he asked, “if ” 

She turned pale as the rose at her breast. 

“Oh, hush ! . Do be careful! For — for my sake!’^ 

“Have no fear!” he answered, with eyes agleam 
at this appeal, which was almost a confession. 
“When you say that, my arm is as iron, my nerve as 
steel. ’ ’ 

The brief colloquy was interrupted by the appear- 
ance of Signor Jonesio from the ring, and Queenie 
hurried away to the dressing tent, not noticing as 
she passed through, the look of hatred bent upon 
her from the black eyes of a woman who was stand- 
ing close to the entrance. Hilda Corrode had been 
watching, and had seen her speak to the “Star of 
the Air.” 

“It’s Corrode’s act next but one,” said Jonesio, 
joining his wife and d,aught@f. “Worse luck ! I 
don’t like the look of her to-night. Her first turn 
went bad. She’s in the tantrums again, and when 
the wind blows that way, she don’t care whether she 


A WOMAN WITH A PAST. 


39 


sticks on or falls off. By the way, whereas Blythe? 
Oh, there he is. ” 

This latter as Sammy entered, an absurd figure, 
his cheeks bedaubed with red and white paint, and 
his figure arrayed in a grotesque clown’s suit miles 
too large for him, in which his arms and legs seemed 
absolutely lost. The poor fellow felt that he was 
playing in very hard luck, and indeed it seemed as 
if he were not far wrong. With a heart as full of 
romance as any poet’s, he was doomed to make him- 
self ridiculous. 

‘‘Ha! ha! ha!” mimicking savagely the burst of 
laughter with which he was greeted by the Jones 
family, including the object of his adoration. 
“Funny, isn’t it? Sorry I don’t suit.” 

“But, my lad, you do suit,” chuckled Mrs. Jones. 
“Directly the audience see you, they’ll die of 
laughing.”’ 

“Well, I hope they will,” groaned Sammy, “for 
I’m quite certain if I don’t corpse them at first 
sight, they’ll kill me when I try to be funny. Oh, 
dear, oh dear! I feel like one of the coves in Fox’s 
Book of Blessed Martyrs going to be jugged under 
the jugular.” 

“Never mind, Sammy,” said Carrie, her eye-s 
dancing with merriment, “the hens are laying, eggs 
are cheap, so perhaps they’ll throw ’em fresh.” 

This was the most unkind cut of all, and the 
clown, in spite of himself, was plunged into the 
very depths of woe. And his spirits were not raised 
by the appearance of a groom leading a horse with 
a lady’s side saddle. It was Margery, the horse Miss 


40 


A WOMAN WITH A PAST 


Corrode used in her manege act. It seemed to 
Sammy that the animal was more fiery than usual 
to-night, and that it glared at him as if threatening 
to do him some damage with its hoofs once it had 
him in the ring. 

He was almost ready to turn tail and fly from it 
all when Carrie came to the rescue. 

Taking him by the arm, she led him a little one 
side to give him the tips she had promised him, 
assuring him at the same time that she was sure he 
was a born comedian. 

“Mother,’^ said Jonesio, “just call Miss Corrode, 
will you? I want to have a parlez-vous with her, as 
they say in my native Italy.” 

A look of apprehension appeared upon Mrs. Jones’ 
kind face. She did not particularly care for Miss 
Corrode, but she would have spared her any unpleas- 
antness she could. 

“Now, Bob,” she said, laying her plump hand 
entreatingly upon his arm, “don’t be harsh, because 
it don’t become you. We all know she’s a bit bad- 
tempered and occasionally sulky, but remember she’s 
just been ill, and seems to have had a deal of trouble, 
young as she is. ” 

“Leave it to me, mother,” rejoined Jonesio, 
rather shortly. “Just call her.” 

Mrs. Jones went over to the dressing tent. 

“Hilda, are you dressed?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Jones,” replied a clear, not unmusical 
voice. “Do you want me?” 

“Father does. Come along, there’s a dear.” 

In another moment Hilda Corrode emerged. 


A WOMAN WITH A PAST. 


41 


Although the rouge upon her cheeks was a little too 
thick, and the dark lines beneath her eyes a trifle 
too pronounced, she was looking very handsome in 
her perfectly-fitting habit of dark-blue cloth, the 
skirt of which she held gathered together in one 
hand. 

She gave one quick glance toward Dave Kngle- 
heart, who still remained near the entrance of the 
ring, but the young athlete, absorbed in his own re- 
flections, which must have been pleasant ones from 
the smile upon his lips, was not even aware of her 
appearance. 

Then her eyes flashing angrily and her lips tightly 
compressed, she advanced with an easy swinging 
step toward her employer. 

“You wish to speak to me?” she asked, curtly. 

“Yes, Miss Corrode.” 

“Be as quick as you can, please.” 

Annoyed at her haughtiness, which was not far 
removed from insolence, Jonesio spoke more sharply 
than he had intended after his wife’s remonstrance. 

“Your act lately has been most slipshod and care- 
less. You have ridden poor Margery as if you didn’t 
care whether the tricks were done or not, and often 
but for the grooms you would have come a nasty 
cropper. You don’t take any interest in your work. 
Miss Corrode, and, without that, your rein will be- 
come uncertain, your hand lose its cunning.” 

And, with a short bow, he walked away, without 
giving her any chance to reply. 

She looked after him, her dark brows contracted 
gloomily. 


42 


A WOMAN WITH A PAST. 


“Yoiir hand will lose its cunning,” she repeated 
to herself. 

Suppose he were right? What would the end be 
then? 

She was roused by the touch of Mrs. Jones ^ hand 
upon her shoulder and the sound of Mrs. Jones’ kind 
voice in her ear. 

“Come, dear, don’t be annoyed. He only speaks 
for your good. ” ' ' 

Hilda shook off the hand impatiently. 

“Oh, yes, I know,” she said, bitterly. “I’m" 
growing passe for the business now; I’m getting a 
back number. Just fancy, Mrs. Jones, only a few 
years ago, I was the admiration and toast of all the 
big cities on the Continent ! There were none like 
brilliant, dashing Hilda Corrode!” 

“Never mind, dear,” said Mrs. Jones, kindly, 
feeling really sorry for the woman and attempting in 
her own homely way to console her. “We must all 
have our ups and downs. Why, look at me. I once 
rode barebacked before the Prince of Wales, and 
now, when I’ve got fat and my figure’s gone, I have 
to be content with the old woman in the clown’s 
comic sketches.” 

Hilda’s lip curled. What cared she for Mrs. Jones’ 
misfortunes? It was her own and her own alone 
that concerned her. 

“I suppose, then,” she said, coldly, “if I do not 
come up to your husband’s standard of perfection 
he’ll discharge me.” 

“Now, don’t talk like that,” said Mrs. Jones, 


A WOMAN WITH A PAST. 


43 


genuinely pained. “I was only saying to Queenie 
this morning ” 

Hilda upreared her handsome head with a gesture 
of displeasure. 

“I fail to see,^’ she interrupted, haughtily, “how 
my affairs can interest Miss Carruthers. ” 

Mrs. Jones, amiable soul though she was, was up, 
in arms at once. She could not and would not bear 
any reflection upon her favorite. Besides, there were 
. circumstances which made it particularly offensive 
in the present case, and these circumstances she did 
not hesitate to recall. 

“Perhaps not,” she answered, bridling in her in- 
dignation. “But w'hen you were down with the 
fever, she nursed you night and day, didn’t she? 
She did double duty in the ring, so that your en- 
gagement should be kept open for you, didn’t she? 
And now you are strong again she seems to take a 
great deal more interest in your welfare than you do 
yourself.” 

All this was true, but they were facts which 
rankled in Miss Corrode’s soul, facts she would have 
liked to forget, and it was excessively disagreeable 
to her to have them recalled in thi§ blunt way. -Still 
she restrained herself and answered chillingly: 

“I am very much obliged to Miss Carruthers. I 
have thanked her.” 

“Onr Queenie wants no thanks,” retorted Mrs. 
Jones, sharply.* “Her reward will be m seeing you 
take an interest in your work aad be kind to those 
about you!” 

And, her patience exhausted, the good woman 


44 A WOMAN WITH A PAST. 

wheeled about, and flounced away in high dudgeon. 

Hilda leaned back against one of the bunting- 
bedecked pillars, and gave herself up to her own 
bitter reflections. 

This White Queen as they called her had nursed 
her back to life, and for that she was expected to be 
grateful ! Oh 1 if they only knew what cause she had 
to curse rather than to thank her. What was her 
life, Hilda Corrode’s, that she should be thankful 'it 
had been saved? Naught to look back upon but a 
past full of weakness, sin and a man’s treachery; a 
present nothing but drudgery and discontent; and 
the future 

Then she heard David Engleheart’s deep rich 
voice behind her. He had crossed over to where 
Carrie and Sammy were, and he was saying : 

“Poor chap! Don’t worry! It will be all right!” 

The words were nothing to Hilda Corrode. It is 
doubtful even if she took in their meaning. But the 
voice turned the whole current of her thoughts. 
Her face lost its hard expression, and a new light, a 
light almost of hope, came into her dark eyes. 

No! She was wrong. She ought to thank Queenie 
Carruthers. She did thank her. A future with him 
by her side, and the dreary, sinful past would be as 
a fitful dream that is forgotten. He was approaching. 
She could feel his presence though hei eyes could 
not see. She could hear the vibration of his voice 
upon her heart, though she were deaf as the stones. 

“Miss Corrode !” 

She turned slowly and faced him. Ah, who woirld 
have called Hilda Corrode cold and domineering 


A WOMAN WITH A PAST. 


45 


then ? Her eyes were soft and appealing, and her 
red lips were tremulous with feeling. 

David Kngleheart was struck with her beauty as 
he had never been before, but it made no impression 
upon him save one of passing admiration. His heart 
had passed out of his keeping forever, and another 
held it in her gentle possession. 

“Miss Corrode. ” 

“Mr. Engleheart.” 

“There is a favor I want to ask you.” 

“It is granted already,” she answered, quickly. 

“Now, don’t be rash,” said David, with a smile. 
“You don’t know what it may be.” 

She caught her breath, and wild, foolish fancies 
darted through her brain. Ordinarily she was a 
calm, self-collected woman of the world, but now 
she became as impulsive as a schoolgirl. 

“There is no favor in the world too great for me 
to accord yon,” she exclaimed, with a catch in her 
voice. 

D^vid looked at her in surprise. Then he regarded 
this strong statement simply as a figure of speech, a 
species of feminine exaggeration. He had never had 
much to do with women and did not understand the 
sex very well. Besides, in spite of the adulation he 
had received from the public, he was altogether too 
modest a man to suspect the passion he had kindled 
in Hilda’s breast. 

“Really, now, that is very kind of you,” he said, 
simply. “It’s about that lad, Sammy Blythe.” 

Hilda’s heart sank with the weight of her disap- 
pointment. 


46 


A WOMAN WITH A PAST, 


“What of him?’’ she asked, impatiently, turning 
partially away. 

“It appears that your usual clown has been drink- 
ing again, and young Blythe has to deputize for 
him. Poor Sammy is in a fearful state of nervous- 
ness, and I want you to do your best to pull him 
through.” 

Miss Corrode’s whole manner had changed. She 
was now her usual self again, cold, hard and repel- 
lant. 

“I have no sympathy with these novices,” she 
said, sneeringly. “Instead of encouraging this young 
man, you would be doing him a greater kindness by 
advising him to return to his desk in the office.” 

Dave was disappointed and puzzled as well. He 
could not understand this sudden change. 

“I don’t know,” he said, slowly. “Sammy’s a 
decent chap, and we’re all the better fora little fresh 
blood. I am afraid some of us are too ready to forget 
when we were struggling beginners, and how an 
encouraging word or a helping hand lightened our 
burdens and put hope into our hearts. But I am 
sorry you don’t approve of my request, though it is 
such a small one. I must strive to encourage 
Sammy.” 

He turned to go, but Hilda caught him by the 
arm. It would never do to let him go, displeased 
with her, and she deeply regretted that she had 
given way to her feelings and allowed her chagrin 
to have sway. 

“No! no!” she exclaimed, eagerly and remorse- 


A WOMAN WITH A PAST 


47 


fully. ‘‘Don’t go to him ! Of course I will do any- 
thing you wish !” 

David turned to her again, with a bright smile of 
thanks upon his face. 

“Now, that is really kind of you,” he said, 
heartily. “And in return let me pay you a compli- 
ment. Do you know that you are looking very 
handsome to-night?” 

Hilda flushed brightly beneath her rouge, and she 
looked up at him with an expression that would 
have told almost any other man the truth. 

“Do you think so, really?” she asked. 

“Of course I do,” he answered, lightly, “or I 
shoiildn’t say it.” 

She caught his hand. 

“Mr. Engleheart,” she said, breathlessly, “I in 
my turn have a favor to ask of you.” 

“Speak, Miss Corrode.” 

“I want to see you alone, away from all this,” 
with a gesture of disdain. “I have something to say 
to you, something of great importance to myself, 
and,” faltering a little, “perhaps also to you.” 

Dave looked the surprise he felt. He could not 
imagine what this important matter might be. But 
of course it was impossible for him to refuse such a 
request. 

“lam always at your service. Miss Corrode,” he 
said, courteously. 

“Then — then to-morrow?” 

He bowed assent. 

“To-morrow morning at eleven o’clock I shall be 


48 


A WOMAN WITH A FAST. 


at Morecombe Bay, just opposite Peel Castle. Will 
you be there also?” 

He bowed again gravely, at the same time gently 
releasing his hand from her clasp. 

‘H will be there. ” 

“Miss Corrode, it is your turn,” called the impa- 
tient voice of Jonesio. 

“To-morrow, then.” 

“To-morrow!” 

She gathered up her skirt, and, after flashing a 
brilliant smile at him, walked away with the un- 
dulating motion peculiar to her. 

As Hilda rode Margery into the ring she was 
thinking to herself, her heart beating to suffocation 
in her breast: 

“To-morrow, I play to win or lose all! If I am to 
lose, I pray Heaven that this horse will crush me 
beneath his feet to-night!” 


DISINHERITED. 


CHAPTER V. 

DISINHERITED. 

Captain Rodney Haynes, of Her Majesty^s Guards, 
was a man of the world in the worst sense that the 
appellation implies. 

Handsome, well educated, excellently connected 
on both sides of his family, and possessed of a 
modest competence, it would seem, when he re- 
ceived his commission that the young man started 
with exceptional advantages in life. 

But there was a bad streak somewhere in Rodney 
Haynes’ blood. He seemed to be wholly conscience- 
less, esteeming men only for what he could obtain 
from them, and looking upon every woman as his 
natural prey. Many a young man had been brought 
to financial ruin by Haynes’ too clever manipulation 
of the cards, and many a poor girl traced her down- 
fall to his lures. 

There was more than one ugly whisper about him, 
rumors of questionable transactions which, if they 
could have been proved would have resulted in his 
dismissal from the army. But they were only rumors. 
He was far too clever a man not to cover up his 
tracks, and the tools he selected to do his disreputable 
work he owned body and soul, and not one of them 
would have dared to speak. 

But, like many unscrupulous scoundrels, he was 


50 


DISINHERITED. 


self-indulgent and luxury-loving to a degree. Noth- 
ing that captured his fancy could he deny himself, 
and he lived at a cost of three or four times his 
actual income. The consequence was that his capital 
was slowly but surely encroached upon, and, at the 
age of thirty-five, Captain Rodne)^ Haynes found 
himself without a penny in the world, and deeply in 
debt to the Jews. 

It had not been a very difficult matter for him to 
obtain advances from this latter fraternity. For he 
had an uncle, Mark Carruthers, his mother’s brother, 
who was a very rich banker, and it was popularly 
supposed that Haynes would inherit all the large 
fortune^ as it was not generally known that Mr, 
Carruthers had any other living relative. The young 
man himself had never had any doubt about the 
matter. He had always kept on good terms with his 
uncle and had taken special pains to appear at his 
best before him. 

But now the old man was dead and buried, and 
the day of the funeral the will was read. To the 
surprise of all, except the family solicitor who had 
drawn up the document, Rodney Haynes was left 
only ten thousand pounds. With the exception of a 
few trifling legacies, the entire estate, which 
amounted to over a hundred thousand pounds, was 
left to a niece of the deceased, a niece he had never 
spoken to and whom he had steadfastly refused to 
recognize. 

The blow was a crushing one. It meant ruin, 
irretrievable ruin to the guardsman. The amount 
left to him would not even pay his debts. 


DISINHERITED. 


51 


It is little wonder, then, that he was in a state 
bordering on frenzy, as he paced up and down his 
luxuriously-furnished apartments in the Albany. 
The quaffing of innumerable glasses of brandy and 
soda did not tend to allay his excitement. 

But he was not a man to give up without a strug- 
gle. Scheme after scheme occurred to his fertile 
brain, only to be rejected one after the other. 

A knock at the door aroused him, and to his call 
of, “Come in !” there appeared a gentleman some- 
thing past the middle age, dressed with scrupulous 
neatness in almost clerical garb. He had a fresh, 
ruddy complexion, keen blue eyes, gray hair, and 
small gray side whiskers. He was the very type of 
a respectable family lawyer, which indeed he was. 
The adviser of some of the most prominent people in 
the city, it was said, and probably with truth, that 
the green tin boxes in Mr. Furnaby Fuller’s offices 
in Lincoln’s Inn contained secrets and documents 
that were worth millions of pounds. 

The gentleman gave one glance at Rodney 
Haynes’ flushed face, and then, advancing into the 
room, put his hat upon the table, and seated himself 
in one of the leather-covered armchmrs. 

He folded his hands across his somewhat protuber- 
ant stomach, and said, gravely: 

“This is a bad business for you, Rodney, a very 
bad business. Believe, me, I am sincerely sorry for 
you.’’ 

“You are not half as sorry for me as I am for 
myself,” replied Haynes, savagely. “The old fool 


52 


DISINHERITED. 


must have been insane. He was so, and Pll prove 
it!’’ 

Fuller looked at him from over his glasses. He 
had known the young man all his life, and Haynes 
would have been somewhat startled had he guessed 
how many of his transactions were an open book to 
this quiet old gentleman. 

“If you mean that you intend to contest the will, 
Rodney,” said the lawyer, “you are on the wrong 
tack. Your late uncle was an exceptionally well- 
balanced man, quite as sane, if not saner, than either 
you or I. You would not have a leg to stand on.” 

A fierce oath broke from Rodney Haynes’ lips. 
He knew that the opinion of Mr. Fuller on such 
matters was worth more than that of any other man 
in London. 

He poured out another glass of brandy and drained 
it off. Then, throwing himself down into a chair on 
the other side of the table, he turned to the lawyer. 

“Why did my uncle disinherit me? You must 
know. Tell me that.” 

“I will tell you all that I can honorably.” 

Haynes’ lip curled, but he said nothing. He 
knew that the lawyer was not a man to be intimidated 
or bribed; and intimidation or bribery, sometimes 
both, had been the captain’s strongest weapons in 
more cases than one. 

“The fact of it is, Rodney,” proceeded the law- 
yer, “that certain episodes in your life came to your 
uncle’s ears. ” 

Rodney struck the table a violent blow with his 
fist. 


DISINHERITED. 


53 


‘‘Damn it! What cur went to him with tales 
against me?” 

“That I cannot tell you. But,” after a slight 
pause, “your uncle knew of your connection with 
the Helliwell Mansion.” 

Haynes turned pale. Fuller noticed this, and, if 
he had ever had any doubt of the truth of the story 
repeated to him by Mr. Carruthers, he had none 
now. The fact of the matter was that Haynes’ had 
been the virtual proprietor of the Helliwell Mansion, 
one of the most magnificent and most notorious 
gambling houses in London. But this had been so 
carefully screened that he had been confident that it 
would never be found out. Some one must have 
betrayed him. He swore to himself that if he ever 
found out who it was that some one should suffer 
even as he was suffering now. 

But, nevertheless, he attempted to brazen the 
matter out before Mr. Fuller. 

“It was a lie!” he exclaimed, emphatically. “A 
lie!” 

“At all events, your uncle believed it,” returned 
Mr. Fuller, quietly. 

“And this is the reason I was cut off with a paltry 
ten thousand?” 

“That and one other thing.” 

“Well?” 

“Mr. Carruthers was a very peculiar man.” 

“He has proved it !” 

“Beneath a cold exterior,” went on Mr. Fuller, 
heedless of the interruption, “was hidden a warm 
heart, and as just a one as I ever knew. You are 


64 


DISINHERITED. 


aware how the marriage of your other uncle, Julian 
Carruthers, alienated him from his brother. With 
all his good qualities, which I have just hinted at, 
Mark Carruthers was excessively obstinate. It was 
the most difficult thing in the world for him to 
acknowledge himself to be in the wrong. He really 
loved his brother and I believe sincerely grieved for 
him.” 

“Oh, cut it short! Come to the point!” 

The lawyer’s countenance took on an even deeper 
tinge of red at these curt words; but he made 
allowances for Haynes’ quite natural impatience and 
irritation. 

“You and the daughter of Julian Carruthers were 
his only blood relations,” he continued, quietly. 
“When the stories about you, true or not,” with a 
deprecatory wave of the hand, “reached him his 
thoughts turned toward his niece.” 

Rodney ground his teeth viciously together. 

“He knew that she had been given in charge of 
certain circus people called Jonesio. He found out 
where the circus was playing and went there. He 
was greatly taken with the young lady’s appearance. 
He made inquiries about her, and everything he 
heard redounded to her advantage. And then ” 

“And then?” 

“He made his will. ” 

Haynes was silent. A new idea had entered his 
head. He wondered that he had not thought of it 
before. There was a way by which he might yet 
come into possession of the property which, as he 
told himself, was rightly his. This girl had as yet 


DISINHERITED. 


55 

mixed with only the lower strata of society. She 
would be dazzled by her accession to wealth. She 
would need an adviser in the new rank she was 
entering. Why should not that adviser be himself? 
He thought of his successes with women and smiled 
confidently. Surely he would be able to win her. 
That would be an easy victory. He had always had 
an aversion to matrimony, but in this case the stakes 
were worth the sacrifice. Once her husband and the 
fortune was his. 

His face, which had hitherto been lowering, 
cleared. 

‘‘Do you know where the heiress is?’’ he asked, 
turning suddenly toward Mr. Fuller. 

“Certainly,” replied the lawyer. “Next week the 
circus will be in Blackburn. I shall go there to 
announce to her her good fortune.” 

Haynes rose to his feet. 

“I will go with you,” he said, with a smile. 

Mr. Fuller started a little. He felt instinctively 
that there was something behind this declaration, 
which he could not just at the moment fathom. 

‘'Why?’’. he asked. 

“Why!” repeated Hayens, laughingly. “Isn’t 
she the one blood relation I have on earth? isn’t it 
my duty to make her acquaintance?” 


’,6 


WOMAN PROPOSES. 


CHAPTER VI. 

WOMAN PROPOSES. 

The circus was playing that week in Barrow-in- 
Furness, that extraordinary town, which, like some 
of the Western cities in America, sprang, mushroom- 
like, into prosperity in a night. 

It is a dull, ugly place on the whole, as towns 
given up entirely to the making of money are apt to 
be, but it is surrounded by some of the most beauti- 
ful scenery, some of the most picturesque and 
interesting spots in all England. 

It was a lovely morning late in the summer, one 
of those days when all nature seems to be in tune. 
The flowers flung forth their most fragrant odors, 
the birds sang their sweete'st, and the waters of 
Morecombe Bay sparkled and rippled as if in pure 
glee at the kisses of the sun, which rode triumphant 
in the midst of a cloudless sky. 

Hilda Corrode, as she walked .slowly up and down 
upon the grassy bank above the beach, noticed all 
this, and she wondered if it were a happy augury. 
Then her eyes fell upon the gloomy, repellant gray 
walls of Peel Castle on the island just opposite, and 
she shuddered superstitiously. Was the rest of her 
life to be p.assed in the sunshine or in dungeon-like 
gloom ? 


WOMAN PROPOSES. 


57 


Oh, if her past were only clear! But what mat- 
tered that? The future, the future alone was hers. 
She would cast from her all the sin and shame that 
had besmirched her and bask in a purer, sweeter 
existence than she had ever known. If but her 
prayers were answered she would go back to her 
girlhood, to what she might have been had not cir- 
cumstances and man’s baseness made her what she 
was. 

A step sounded behind her, and she turned to see 
coming toward her the man upon whom all her 
hopes were based. He had kept his word. The 
crucial moment was close at hand. 

Dave Engleheart greeted her pleasantly, but while 
her hand trembled a little as she placed it in his, his 
grasp was firm. 

They walked forward a little side by side, and then 
seated themselves beneath the shadow of a great 
rock. 

For awhile neither of them spoke, Dave, because 
he was waiting for her to begin the conversation she 
had requested, and she because her emotion almost 
overpowered her. Oh ! Why would he not help her? 
Why did he not read her secret in her eyes, hear the 
love beating at her heart? 

Dave was the first to break the silence, which he 
found a little oppressive. 

“Miss Corrode, you have asked me to meet you 
here on an important matter. May I ask you what 
it is. ” 

She started and the color faded from her cheeks. 


58 


WOMAN PBOFOSES. 


“Mr. Bngleheart — David,” she said, hesitatingly, 
“I — I want to ask your advice. ” 

“Certainly,” he answered, cordially, “if you 
think it will be of any value.” 

She found it very hard to go on, but she had come 
there with a purpose, and she could endure the 
suspense no longer. 

“It — it is about a friend of mine, a woman who is 
in great trouble,” 

“Well?” 

She moved a little, so that she could see his face 
and note its every expression. And then she con- 
tinued, her voice vibrating with the intensity of her 
feeling. 

“She has given her heart unasked to a man who, 
if he does not love her already, her great love must 
in time compel his heart to turn to her. But he 
makes no sign, and the cruel law of society forbids a 
woman to proclaim her passion, denies her the right 
to cry out, ‘I love you! I Ipve you!’ What,- then, 
do you advise?” 

She waited for his answer, her eyes fixed intently 
upon his face, and her breath coming with difficulty. 

Dave was silent for a moment. For the first time 
a suspicion of the truth dawned upon him, and he 
was almost sorry that he had come. For her, how- 
ever, there was as yet nothing but pity. But, if his 
suspicions were correct, she must be prevented from 
saying anything more. Generalities must not become 
personalities. 

At last he spoke, slowly and very gravely : 

“The best advice to offer her would be patience.” 


woma:n’ peoposes. 


59 


she fears that in the meantime another 
younger and fairer than she^ may come between 
them. ” 

“Then she must accept the common lot of her 
sex, to suffer and make no sign.” 

Hilda sighed, and, turning away her eyes, gazed 
for a moment over the bright waters of the bay, as if 
seeking inspiration. She thought he was blind, but, 
whatever he might have been in the past, now he 
was not so blind as she. 

Then she returned to the charge. 

“Then you — you would not have her speak, just 
to hint at her great love, so that he perhaps may 
turn his eyes with pity upon her?” 

Dave hesitated a moment. He was in a very un- 
pleasant position, and he scarcely knew how to 
extricate himself from it. Finally he determined to 
be cruel only to be kind. 

“It would not be pity. Miss Corrode,” he said, 
with stern severity. “It would be contempt. 
Woman’s greatest charm in a man’s eyes is that she 
must be sought and fought for before she is won.” 

Hilda, with a choking sensation, felt that her 
hopes were gradually being strangled to death. But 
she had gone too far now to retreat. She must and 
would know the truth and the whole truth. 

“But, David,” she persisted, feverishly, “if this 
wretched woman felt that her soul’s salvation hung 
upon his slightest word, if she knew that sooner 
than miss the daily kindly glance, the careless 
pressure of his hand, she would be content to be- 
come his servant, his slave!” 


60 


WOMAN PROPOSES. 


With his whole heart and soul, David Engleheart 
was sorry for her; but the situation was becoming 
intolerable, and he felt that it must be ended at all 
costs. 

He rose hastily to his feet, cutting her short. 

‘‘Hush, Miss Corrode! If this woman is really 
your friend,” keeping up the fiction which was no 
longer one, “forsake her! she is worthless!” 

Hilda, too, had risen, and at this denunciation the 
color sprang hot into her cheeks and her eyes flashed 
fire. Then she burst forth, in a perfect torrent of 
passion. 

“Man! man! Are you made of stone? Have you 
eyes to see? Can you not understand? Oh, David, 
my whole life has been so hard and bitter, so full 
of vain longing for an honest heart to cling to ! I 
have never had a single being take my hand or 
give me a kind word but from a selfish motive. 
When I came to join this circus, my life had become 
so hateful to me that I had resolved to end it all, but 
since you have crossed my path, the sunshine has 
once more entered into my soul. I feel new life, 
new hopes, new happiness. There is no height in 
woman’s sphere to which I could not rise, no 
ambition too great to be surmounted. Take me!” 
stretching out her arms imploringly. “Take me, 
David, and we will become great, rich, famous!” 

It was pitiful and pitiable, almost like the cry of 
a lost soul, begging for one more chance to obtain 
salvation. 

David was touched to the innermost depths of his 


WOMJJSr PROPOSES. 


61 


being, at the same time that he was revolted at this 
casting to the winds of all true womanliness. 

“Miss Corrode,’’ he began, “I ” 

“No! no!” she interrupted, passionately, know- 
ing that for her the star of. hope had faded, and yet 
refusing to accept the fact. “Don’t turn away from 
me, for God’s sakeh Pity me, David, pity me!” 

The poor woman sank upon her knees in the 
grass, in abject appeal. 

“Speak one word of love to me! My heart is 
breaking for it, breaking, breaking!” 

The words died away and became inarticulate in a 
storm of convulsive sobs. 

David stooped and raised her to her feet. 

“Miss Corrode,” he said, his voice shaking in 
spite of his efforts to control it. “Miss Corrode, I 
cannot express to you my deep regret, my sincere 
sorrow. I don’t know how to frame my words, but — 
but it cannot be.” 

She moaned drearil3^ Her eyes half closed, and 
then opened wide again as she made her last appeal. 

“Don’t send, me from you lightly, David ! Re- 
member it is the salvation of my soul you hold in 
your hands this day!” 

“I cannot, I must not believe such words, ” re- 
plied David, desperately. “I am sure the fault of all * 
this is with me. Unwittingly I must have given you 
a wrong impression that I was fortunate enough to 
care for you. If this was so, I ask you to forgive 
me.” 

It was a noble, generous way of putting it, and 
Hilda, through the clouds that were enveloping her. 


62 


WOMAN FBOPOSE^, 


dimly realized it. The sun was still shining as 
brightly as ever, but not for her. All she could see 
were the grim, forbidding walls of Peel Castle, 
which typified to her the dungeon in which the rest 
of her life must be passed. 

“No,” she answered, wearily. “I have nothing to 
reproach you with. “But,” suddenly rousing her- 
self, “tell me, David, is there, is there some one 
else?” 

It was a question she had no right to ask, and 
David felt that it was an intrusion upon the most 
sacred thing of his life. Still, he owed this unhappy 
woman much consideration, and it would be better 
for all, both in the present and the future, for him 
to answer frankly. 

“Yes,” he said, gently, “there is some one else.” 

Instantly as if by magic, Hilda’s whole attitude 
was transformed. She was no longer a suppliant, 
but a woman half mad with jealous rage. 

The poet never said anything truer than when he 
declared: “Hell hath no fury like a woman 
scorned,” and this is doubly true when she is 
scorned for another. 

“Queenie Carruthers!” Hilda cried, fiercely. 

< < j ) ) 

“Stop! Don’t tell me! I know already! Know 
that this baby-faced doll with her soft, low voice and 
purring, pleading airs, has come between us. But 
for her your heart must have turned to me in time. 
Oh, David, don’t pass me by for this! She will be 
but a burden around your neck, while I would lead 
your steps on to fame and fortune!” 


WOMAN PROPOSES. 


63 


There was an ominous glitter in David’s gray 
eyes, which showed that his patience was rapidly 
coining to an end. Most of us crave affection, but a 
great love given unsought, undesired, is apt to 
engender only repulsion. What is forced upon us we 
avoid, but what flies from us we pursue. It is even 
unwise to let those we love know how much we love 
them. Something should always be kept in reserve. 

“You are very good,” answered David, satirically, 
“but I desire to share whatever the future may have 
in store for me with the woman I love. While health 
and strength are vouchsafed me, our bread shall be 
earned by my exertions only, and whether God sends 
us joys or sorrows, clouds or sunshine, we will share 
them together and thank Him just the same.” 

If the words had been chosen for that purpose, as 
assuredly they were not, nothing could have' been 
better calculated to arouse the worst passions in 
Hilda Corrode’s undisciplined heart. 

“Take your wire-walker!” she cried, violently. 
“Your mountebank coming from God knows where, 
and born by God knows whom 1 I have humbled 
myself to the dust for nothing, it seems, but I warn 
you both to keep from my path I As Hilda Corrode 
can love, so can she hate! Now, go, go! for there is 
danger in me!” 

David Engleheart listened to this tirade with 
face stern and cold. He was a man slow to anger, 
but there was one thing he could not endure, and 
that was reflections upon the woman he loved. All 
softer feelings inspired by the unhappiness of the 
woman before him, died within him, and with all 


64 


WOMAN PBOPOSES. 


his heart he longed that she were a man, so that he 
could give the answer to her insults that they 
deserved. 

But he was forced to crush back his anger, and 
deal his blow only in words. 

“But now I pitied you,’’ he said. “Don’t make 
me despise you. As for your threats, they are but 
Idle words to me. You are a woman, and, although 
seemingly you have lost some of the sweetest attri- 
butes of your sex, still, as a man, I am bound to 
look upon you with consideration, with indulgence. 
But,” with stern intonation. “I warn you, even 
these will have their limit, and I will show neither 
mercy nor pity to those who attempt to harm the 
woman I love !” 

He turned abruptly from her, and Walked away 
up the incline which led to the heights above. 

Hilda, with despair and anguish in her eyes, 
watched him until he had disappeared. 

Then she flung herself, face forward, down upon 
the grass, in the shadow of the rock, a shadow over 
her, which was never to be lifted. 

She had staked all, and lost! 


HEART TO HEART, 


65 


CHAPTER VIL 

HEART TO HEA R^T . 

David Engleheart, after perhaps the most un- 
pleasant interview he had ever had in his life, struck 
off into the country, walking at random, with no 
objective point in view. He turned into a lane, with 
high banks on each side, over which the blackberry 
bushes, loaded with fruit, struggled in picturesque 
confusion. 

It was a lonely sort of road, the thatched cottages 
were few and far between, and except for an occa- 
sional farmer’s wagon, or a group of children here 
and there, playing in the muddy ditch which ran 
along one side of the lane, there was no sign of life. 

This suited David exactly, for he wanted to be 
alone with Jiis own thoughts. His conscience, high- 
minded fellow that he was, was not entirely at ease. 
He wondered if he could, unwittingly, have given 
this woman any reason to speak as she had done. 
Had the ordinary compliments he had paid her been 
misunderstood ? He was absolutely without vanity, 
and, what to some men would have been a source of 
congratulation was to him simply provocative of 
sorrow and regret. 

After long reflection he concluded that he was 
blameless in the matter. He could not have foreseen 
what had occurred. 


HEART TO HEART. 


66 

And then he thought of Hilda’s threats. So far 
as he himself was concerned, he cared but little for 
them. But Queenie? Could she harm her? It was 
not probable, and yet, where Queenie was concerned 
no chances must be taken. He must constitute him- 
self her protector as soon as possible. But would she 
accept him as such? He was not sure, but he hoped 
and prayed so. And if she did, his whole life would 
be devoted to making her happy. 

‘‘My little queen!” he murmured. “My little 
queen ! Whatever happens, you shall find me the 
most devoted of your subjects !” 

He had walked on, not noticing where his feet 
were carrying him, and suddenly he looked up to see 
before him the ruins of Furness Abbey. 

The monks of old were wise in worldly as well as 
in spiritual affairs, and nothing proves this better than 
the lovely sites they invariably chose for their 
residences. 

There is no spot in the surrounding country so 
exquisite as that where Furness Abbey was built. 

David looked at the broken piles of masonry and 
tried to reconstruct, in his mind’s eye the cloisters, 
the refectory and the chapel. He attempted to pro- 
ject himself back several centuries, and to fancy 
himself a wandering knight, coming to beg hospital- 
ity of the abbot. 

As he thought this it was borne in upon him that 
he was decidedly hungry. He was about to seek the 
little station close to the abbey, where there is an 
excellent restaurant, wdien the sound of voices and 
laughter reached his ears. 


BEAUT TO BEAUT 


67 


Then some one cried : 

“Oh, Qiieenie, take care! You’ll upset the milk!” 

It was a most prosaic exclamation, but it brought 
Dave Engleheart’s heart into his mouth. It was 
Carrie’s voice.* Queenie! Then she must be there, 
close to him. 

He picked his way over the masses of granite 
which had once formed part of the walls of the 
abbey, until through an opening he could look into 
the roofless enclosure which had formerly been the 
chapel. 

There was rather an irreverent group there. Three 
ladies were seated upon the grassy ground, and be- 
fore them was spread a substantial luncheon. 

Mrs. Jones, Carrie and Queenie had come out to 
the abbey to enjoy an al fresco repast. 

Dave came toward them, hat in hand. 

His advent was greeted with cries of delight from 
Carrie, smiles of welcome from Mrs. Jones, and 
blushes from Queenie. 

They insisted that he should sit down and share 
their luncheon, an invitation which it is needless to 
say Dave accepted with alacrity. 

It was a merry meal that followed. Carrie was in 
the highest of spirits, and Mrs. Jones was full of 
anecdote of her former experiences in the ring. 

If Queenie was a little quiet it detracted nothing 
from the general enjoyment. Her lovely face showed 
that she was content. 

Dave, as he looked at her, which was most of the 
time, thought that in all England there was surely 
not a more exquisite specimen of girlhood. Her 


68 


HEART TO HEART. 


gown of pale blue iniivSlin, with a broad straw hat 
adorned with clusters of forget-me-nots was very be- 
coming to her delicate coloring. 

If it were destined that she was to be his, surely 
earth would have nothing else to offer* His happi- 
ness would be beyond compare. And then, his heart 
sank as he thought how unworthy he was of her, 
how unworthy any man is of a pure and innocent 
girl. 

Shrewd Carrie was not at all ignorant of what was 
passing in his mind, and she was far more cognizant 
of Queenie’s feelings than he was himself. Already 
it seemed to her that she could hear the sound of 
wedding bells. 

She determined that at any rate it should not be 
her fault if “this consummation, devoutly to be 
wished” did not come to pass. 

It was exactly in this way that she put it to her- 
self, too, for Carrie had an ambition beyond her 
calling. Shakespeare was her idol, and she longed 
above everything else to have the opportunity some 
day to represent his heroines. So quotations from 
the immortal bard were constantly in her thoughts, 
although, for fear of ridicule, they were rarely upon 
her lips. 

After full justice had been done to the luncheon, 
and the hamper had been repacked with what it was 
necessary to take back, Carrie turned to Mrs. Jones 
and gave her a significant look. 

“Mother,” she said, “suppose you and I explore 
the ruins a little. I am sure you' will find them 
interesting.” 


HEART TO HEART, 


69 


But Mrs. Jones was sleepy after the meal, to 
which, she had done full justice, and did not feel 
like moving. 

She clasped her hands in fat contentment, as she 
leaned back against a block of stone behind her. 

“Really, my dear, I am very comfortable. I 
think I would like to take a little nap.” 

Carrie was disgusted, but she was not at the end 
of her resources. 

“Very well, then,” she said. “I will stay here 
with you. And perhaps Mr. David will show 
Queenie about. I know she is longing to explore 
these ruins.” 

Would Mr. David show Queenie about? It was 
the very opportunity he had been longing for. 

“I shall be only too happy,” he said, “if Miss 
Carruthers will accept me as her cicerone.” 

Queenie rose and smilingly assented. But her 
heart was beating violently, with a premonition of 
what was to come. It is rare that a woman does not 
know when words of love are to be spoken to her, 
and she is almost always prepared either to accept or 
reject them. Queenie was no exception to the rule. 

As the two disappeared beneath the broken arch 
which led to the cloisters, Carrie turned indignantly 
to her mother. 

“Really, mother, I am surprised at you!” she 
exclaimed. 

At this Mrs. Jones’ sleepy eyes, which were 
almost closing, opened wide. 

“Why, my dear,” she said, in amazement. “I 
don’t understand you.” 


70 


HEART TO HEART, 


“Then you ought to. You’ve had experience 
enough. . Don’t you know that I wanted to give 
Dave and Queeuie a chance?” 

“A chance?” 

“Oh, mother,” impatiently. “Don’t you see he’s 
dying to speak to her alone?” 

Then Mrs. Jones did understand. 

“Dear me! Dear me!” she said, fussily, attempt- 
ing to rise. “Of course! Ofcpurse! How stupid of 
me! I know what it is myself. Why, when I rode 
barebacked before the Prince of Wales ” 

“There! There! Mother, never mind that!” in- 
terrupted Carrie, pushing her gently back. “It’s all 
right now. And when you wake up I think there’ll 
be a piece of news to tell you.” 

Meanwhile Dave and Queenie were walking slowly 
and in silence amid the broken columns of the old 
cloisters. Before them lay an exquisite landscape, 
valley and upland, smiling in the afternoon’s sun- 
shine. But neither of them was thinking of scenery, 
however beautiful. 

At last they paused at the end of the row of 
columns, and sat down side by side upon a long 
stone slab. 

Then David spoke, and, as usual in the prelimi- 
naries of such cases, his words apparently had but 
little or nothing to do with the matter uppermost. 

“What a good little soul Carrie is!” 

“Of course she is, always,” assented Queenie, 
cordially. “But why so particularly now?” 

“Because,” replied David, moving involuntarily 
nearer, “she has given me this chance to be alone 


HEART TO HEART, 


71 


with you. And I have something very important to 
say to you, something that I can only say when 
we’re alone. ” 

Qiieenie’s great blue eyes were turned upon him, 
and tnen the long lashes fell, and the color stole 
upward into her fair cheeks. 

“I hope it’s nothing serious,” she said, softly. 

“Something very serious indeed,” replied David, 
in low, tense tones, “for it concerns the future of 
both our lives.” 

The joy bells were ringing in Queenie’s ears, and 
she trembled a little with the immense happiness his 
presence and words brought to her. 

“You must long have guessed what I am about to 
say,” he went on, his whole heart in his voice, “as 
have those around us. I love you, Queenie, love you 
with a strength and passion that time will be power- 
less to kill.” 

The Queen of the Slack Wire would not have 
changed places with any real queen or empress in all 
the wide world at that moment. To her mind, not 
one of them had so much to be proud of as she. 

But she could not move, she could not speak in 
that first instant of her supreme happiness. She 
could only sit there with downcast eyes and sweet 
tremulous lips, and listen with greedy ears to the 
music of his voice, to the recital of that old, old 
story which is ever new, ever absorbing, ever en- 
trancing. 

“BTom the first day that we met, you have be- 
come part of my life. Every new task mastered, 
every fresh effort accomplished, was all for your 


72 


HEART TO HEART. 


sweet sake, for 1 knew they brought me nearer the 
day when I could claim you. Speak, Queenie, 
answer me! Tell me your thoughts, as I have told 
you mine!’’ 

He paused, and waited breathlessly for her answer. 

Then at last the glorious eyes were again uplifted 
and fixed full upon his face with infinite trust, with 
deepest tenderness. 

‘‘Yes, David,” she said in low, but clear tones, 
“I will tell you my inmost thoughts. What my 
heart more than my lips would fain cry out. There 
is not a prouder or happier girl in the land than I 
to-day, for I love you, David, and thank God, who 
made us for each other!” 

With a low cry of joy and gratitude, he leaned 
toward her. His arms encircled her, and her lips 
received the first kiss of a lover. 


A SHOWER OF GOLD, 


73 


CHAPTER VIIL 

A SHOWER OF GOED. 

There was a variety of sentiments among the ar- 
tists of Signor Jonesio’s Grand Cosmopolitan Circus 
when, after the performance that night, David Engle- 
heart made them a little speech, announcing, his 
face fairly gleaming with happiness, that he and 
Miss Queenie Carruthers were about to sign a life- 
long contract — in other words, to become man and 
wife. At the same time he tendered the resignations 
of himself and the Queen of the Slack Wire, to take 
effect at the end of the present tenting season, which 
would be in the neighborhood of another month. 

The warm-hearted circus people surrounded the 
happy couple and showered them with congratula- 
tions. Mrs. Jones and Carrie being especially 
delighted at this culmination of the love affair they 
had watched with so much interest, and indeed had 
been the first to prophesy. 

Still amidst all the joy, there was a certain under 
feeling of sorrow, for both David and his betrothed 
were very popular, and their separation from the cir- 
cus, of which they had been the most brilliant stars, 
was anticipated with keen regret. 

This sentiment was voiced by the manager, when 
he said, with rare unselfishness, of which he was 
occasionally capable (probably due to the example of 
his good wife) : 


A SHOW^IE OF GOLD. 


74 

“You^re taking the pride of the circus away froiii 
us, David, but you’re a good fellow; and the old 
man hopes God will bless you every time.” 

There was one, however, who stood aloof, her 
heart filled with jealous rage. The announcement of 
this engagement, which nevertheless she of all 
others ought to have foreseen, was in the nature of a 
death blow to Hilda Corrode. 

Queenie noticed that from her came no expression 
of good wishes. Her sweet face suffused with 
blushes, she approached her timidly, and said gently, 
almost imploringly : 

“Hilda, for some reason you seem to have grown 
cold and distant, to have almost avoided me; but I 
want you to kiss me now and say we are friends once 
more.” 

Hilda drew herself up, and, although her eyes were 
ablaze with the inward fires which were consuming 
her, she managed to hold herself in check, and an- 
swered, coldly and haughtily : 

“With so many around you, my congratulations 
will scarcely be missed. At any rate, they will keep 
till to-morrow.” 

And then she swept away from the scene of jubila- 
tion which was so repulsive to her. 

Sammy and Carrie, who happened to be standing 
near, heard this ungracious speech, and both were 
filled with indignation. 

“Now, that’s what I call nice and friendly,” 
exclaimed Sammy, sarcastically. “Blest if that 
woman ain’t cold enough to burst a water-pipe!” 

Carrie quite agreed with him, but, possessed of 


A SirorVEB OF GOLD. 


75 


more tact than he, she saw how foolish it would be 
to take up the matter, and she managed to quiet him. 

In honor of the occasion, a modest little supper, 
furnished by the manager, followed, and, in the 
midst of the general hilarity, Hilda Corrode’s absence 
was not noted. 

•The next day was Sunday, and a busy day, too, 
for the circus moved to Blackburn, their next stand. 

Monday found the tents all up, and the Jones fam- 
ily installed in comfortable lodgings not far from the 
j)ark. Queenie, who always lived with them, shared 
their apartments. 

It was destined to be an eventful day for all con- 
cerned — no one had the least presentiment of how 
eventful, until the astonishing news, which was to 
make such a change in all their lives, was suddenly 
imparted to them. 

Abqjit four o’clock, Mrs. Jones was seated at the 
window of the common sitting-room, when she saw 
two gentlemen, one old, the other comparatively 
young, come slowly down the street and pause in 
front of the house. 

They looked up at the number above the door, 
and then mounting the steps, rang the bell. 

Mrs. Jones, ever on the alert to protect the two 
girls in her charge, as she had reason to be from 
experience, glanced toward the other end of the 
room, where Queenie and Carrie were busy altering 
some costumes, while at the same time they gossiped 
in low tones to their hearts’ content, and then ris- 
ing, stole out into the hall. 

She saw the slatternly maid-servant of the lodging 


76 ‘ 


A SHO WER OF GOLD. 


house go to the door, and then she heard one of the 
gentlemen ask for Miss Queenie Carruthers. 

This was enough for Mrs. Jones, alread}' suspi- 
cious as she was. With the stride of a tragedy queen, 
she advanced to the door, and, thrusting the maid 
aside, confronted the two men on the steps outside; 

“You wish to see Miss Queenie Carruthers?” she 
asked, sternly, folding her arms in a defiant man- 
ner. 

“Yes, if you please,” answered the elder of the 
two gentlemen. 

“Well, you won’t!” declared Mrs. Jones, barring 
the way with her portly figure. “You just clear out 
of this, and go home to your wife and family, you 
hoary-headed old reprobate!” 

The gentleman thus addressed gazed at her in 
amazement. He could not understand in the least, 
and wondered if he had suddenly been brougjit into 
contact with a lunatic. His companion, however, 
who had had more experience, fully realized the sit- 
uation, and with difficulty prevented himself from 
laughing aloud at the absurd and anomalous position 
in which this staid and respectable lawyer found 
himself. 

“But, my dear madam,” began Mr. Fuller, depre- 
catingly, “I assure you ” 

But Mrs. Jones was convinced that she was right, 
and was not to be placated by what she considered to 
be wheedling words. 

“Don’t you talk to me!” she interrupted, indig- 
nantly and loudly. “Don’t you dare to talk to me. 
I know the likes of you. You think because a girl 


A SHOWER OF GOLD. 


77 


chooses to earn an honest penny by exhibiting her 
talent, she’ll be a prey to every old sinner that 
chooses to make faces at her!” 

Mr. Fuller was dumfounded. He did not know 
what to say ; while Rodney Haynes, convulsed with 
inward laughter, could not just at that moment come 
to his rescue. 

Then a sweet voice, just behind Mrs. Jones, said 
beseechingly : 

“Oh, mother, don’t! I’m sure you are mistaken!” 

Queenie and Carrie had been attracted to the hall, 
by the noise of the controversy, a noise, however, in 
justice to Mr. Fuller, which was mostly produced by 
Mrs. Jones herself. 

The well-meaning, but mistaken lady, half turned 
toward Queenie, without abandoning her position, 
which served as a barricade. 

“My child,” she said, uncompromisingly, “you 
don’t know the world as I do. Now, you be off,” 
wheeling again toward the uncomfortable and dis- 
gusted lawyer, “while you’ve a whole bone left in 
your disreputable old carcass!” 

Then Haynes thought it was time to interfere. 
Amusing as the whole affair was, and good story 
though it would make for him to tell at the club, 
there were important matters at issue, and, taking 
those into consideration, it behooved him to do all 
that he could to put a stop to this misunderstanding 
at once. 

He ^semoved his hat very politely, and gently 
pushed Fuller to one side. 

“My dear madam,” he said in his most suave and 


78 


A SHOWEE. OF GOLD, 


courteous tones, “pardon me, but 3’ou are making a 
great mistake. This gentleman is a grave family 
solicitor from London, and he and I are here to see 
Miss Carruthers on most important business.” 

Mrs. Jones faltered, and for the first time it dawned 
upon her that perhaps she had made a mistake. She 
hemmed and hawed, and then she burst out with 
characteristic frankness: 

“Oh, Lord! I do believe I have made a fool of my- 
self!” 

“Without prejudice,” said Mr, Fuller, severely, 
with an irritation that was quite excusable, “I must 
say it looks very much like it.” 

It is one thing, however, to call yourself a fool, 
but quite another to have some one else agree with 
you. And Mrs. Jones at this speech at once returned 
to her former aggressive attitude. 

“Indeed, sir,” she exclaimed, flushing scarlet, 
assuming her most dignified manner, and reverting 
to that one incident in her career which was the pride 
of her life, and which in her opinion gave her dis- 
tinction from the common herd, “I’d have you to 
know that when I rode bare-backed before the Prince 
of Wales ” 

“Hush, mother!” said Carrie, gently, putting her 
arm about her waist and drawing her a little to one 
side. 

This old-time achievement was not the patent of 
nobility to the daughter that it was to the mother. 

Then Queenie, who had been listening quietly, 
stepped forward. 

“I am Queenie Carruthers, gentlemen,” she said. 


A Sirowm OF GOLD. 


79 


with sweet and gentle dignity. you will come in, 
I shall be glad to hear what you may have to say to 
me.” 

Mr. Fuller looked at her, and her whole appear- 
ance delighted him. He had been afraid that he was 
going to meet some common, vulgar woman, to 
whom, nevertheless, he would be obliged to turn 
over the fortune which was in his charge, but here 
was a beautiful girl with a high bred air which to 
the old lawyer meant far more than mere beauty of 
face and figure. She would do justice to the fortune 
which was soon to be hers. 

Followed by Haynes, Mr. Fuller entered the house, 
and was ushered by Queenie into the sitting-room. 

Jonesio was there. He had been smoking his pipe 
in the back yard, and .had returned during the con- 
troversy which had taken place between his wife and 
these two strangers. 

He looked up somewhat in surprise at their en- 
trance, but, in obedience to a gesture from Carrie, 
said nothing. 

Mrs. Jones sank heavily down into a chair, with 
her daughter standing behind her. She had dom- 
inated matters to a certain point, but now she was 
prepared to listen and let affairs take their course. 

Both Haynes and Fuller had removed their hats, 
and stood in a respectful attitude near the door. ' 
With the latter this was genuine, but with the cap- 
tain it was assumed for a purpose. 

“Well, gentlemen,” said Queenie, turning toward 
them, “what is your business with me?” 


/ 


80 A SHOWEB OF GOLD. 

At this question, Rodney Haynes advanced a step 
or two. 

“Let me be the first to speak,” he said, deferen- 
tially, and yet with the air of one who has important 
information to impart. “Queenie, you see before 
you the only relative you have in the world. I am 
your first cousin, Rodney Haynes.” 

Both Jonesio and his wife started and looked at the 
Speaker with , interest. In the inquiries they had 
made as to Queenie’s family, they had heard of this 
cousin. It could be a matter of no small importance 
that had brought him here. 

“My cousin!” echoed Queenie, faintly, waiting in 
breathless interest for what was to come next. 

“Yes,” went on Haynes, seeing the impression he 
had made, and determined to play to the best of his 
ability the part he had studied and elaborated before- 
hand. “Yes, the son of your dead father’s only sis- 
ter. Our parents are all dead, Queenie ; we are the 
last of the old race, and must be very good friends.” 

As he spoke he took her hands in both of his, and 
leaning forward, kissed her upon the forehead. 

Queenie submitted to the caress. She was just a 
little dazed at what was being told her, and, beyond 
that, surely the only relative she had in the world 
had the right to greet her with cousinly affection. 

There was something, however, to Mr. Fuller, 
which was repulsive in this action. He knew Rod- 
ney Haynes too well to have any particular confi- 
dence in him, and, while he could not quite under- 
stand his attitude to his new-found relative, he felt 
instinctively that it boded no good. 


A SHOWER OF GOLD. 


81 


At all events, it was quite time that he should 
take a hand in the proceedings. It was his business 
that had brought them there, and not that of the 
captain. 

“And now, good people, comes my turn,” he said, 
advancing, and surveying each one with a keen, 
penetrating glance, before he finally addressed him- 
self to Queenie. “My dear Miss Carruthers, in addi- 
tion to restoring you to your only relative” — was 
there a trifle of sarcasm in this? If so, the old gentle- 
man did not make it too apparent. — “I am also the 
bearer of a great piece of good fortune.” 

“To me,” murmured Queenie. 

The others were listening most intently to catch 
the lawyer’s next words. Mr. Fuller noticed this, 
and, as we all of us invariably are pleased to have an 
audience, and an attentive one at that, when we have 
anything of importance to deliver, the old gentleman 
paused for a moment, to heighten the effect of his 
words before he said impressively : 

“Miss Carruthers, as you have doubtless been told, 
your father greatly offended the prejudices of his 
family by his marriage, his elder brother, the head of 
the house, being especially bitter. One by one they 
all died, leaving this old man with but you and your 
cousin to claim kindred with him. It was thought 
by all that the captain here would succeed, but, 
strange to say, only a few hours before his death, 
Mr. Carruthers repented of his harshness, and left 
you his chief heiress.” 

Had a thunderbolt suddenly fallen into that quiet 


82 


A 8B0WEB OE GOLD. 


room, it could scarcely have caused more excitement 
than did this statement. 

Mrs. Jones, in spite of her avoirdupois, started to 
her feet, as if she had been a young and sprightly 
girl. Carrie uttered an exclamation of joy, and 
Jonesio stared at the laywer as if that quiet gentle- 
man had been a ghost. 

Queenie was possibly the most unmoved of them 
all, although she was certainly the one most inter- 
ested. 

“I?” she said, slowly, attempting, but without 
great success in that first moment, to realize what it 
all meant. “I, his chief heiress!’’ 

‘‘Yes, Miss Carruthers, ” continued Fuller, smil- 
ing, and rather enjoying the sensation he had cre- 
ated. “Yes, you the fortunate possessor of one of 
the finest and richest estates in England, and over a 
hundred thousand pounds in hard cash.” 

Again an electric shock passed through his hear- 
ers, that is, through the three members of the Jones 
family. A hundred thousand pounds! To them it 
was almost inconceivable. 

But, after the first surprise, Queenie’s first thought 
turned to David, to the one being on earth w.ho was 
more to her than all the rest of the world besides, in 
comparison with whom all the wealth, position and 
honors that might be forced upon her sank into insig- 
nificance. What would he say? This was the ques- 
tion that was interesting her more than anything 
else. 

“In your uncle’s will,” continued Mr. Fuller, “I 
am appointed your sole guardian. I am here to take 


A SHOWEB OF GOLD. 


83 


you to London, where your identity can be estab- 
lished, the will proved, and you can take your 
proper place in society.” 

“Yes,” added Haynes, taking her hand and bend- 
ing upon her a look which he had more than once 
found irresistible with the fair sex, but which left 
Queenie unmoved, if indeed she was conscious of it, 
as, absorbed in the thoughts which this news had 
inspired in her, she left her hand passively in his. 
“Yes, and where, my dear cohsin, you will find me 
your devoted slave.” 

“In society!” said Queenie, slowly, her eyes fixed 
on vacancy, as if she were attempting to pierce the 
veil of futurity. “But, gentlemen, the poor girl who 
has suddenly grown so rich has never known any 
society but what you see surrounding her,” And 
she glanced with a tender smile toward the Joneses. 
“Their joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, have 
become part of her life.” 

A sneer contracted Rodney Haynes’ features, a 
sneer which he quickly repressed, but not before it 
had been observed by Carrie, and which inspired that 
rather astute young girl with a violent dislike for 
the handsome guardsman, a dislike which she 
retained to her dying day. 

It was an unfortunate indulgence in the expres- 
sion of his feelings on the captain’s part, and one for 
which he was destined to pay dear in the future. If 
he could only have known how greatly to his advan- 
tage it would have been to make a friend of Carrie 
Jones, whom at that moment he considered an insig- 
nificant little creature, a factor of no importance in 


84 


A SHOWER OF GOLD. 


his projects, he would have exercised all his best fas- 
cinations to win her. 

But all this he did not know. He was thinking 
only of the new heiress, whose money he had re- 
solved, by fair means or foul, should be his. 

^‘All that must be changed, Queenie,” he said, 
with a mixture of authority and appeal. ^‘We will 
take you to a life where your beauty and riches will 
make you a queen. A life of fashion, pleasure, 
excitement ’’ 

Queenie waved her hand to stop him. 

“And love?” she asked. “For that is what I leave 
behind me.” Turning her back upon those who had 
brought her this great good news, she stretched out 
her arms to those who had been her friends from 
childhood. “At least you,” she continued, with 
quivering voice and eyes brimming over with tears, 
“you, my dear father, mother, and sister, you will 
come with me and share all the bright and wonderful 
things this great fortune is to buy.” 

Mrs. Jones was sobbing quietly to herself. She 
had cared for Queenie as if she had been her own 
child, and now she saw a great gulf opening between 
them. Not even the day when she had ridden bare- 
backed before the Prince of Wales was any consola- 
tion to her now. 

Even Jonesio was choking with emotion, but he 
managed to gasp out : 

“Speak, Carrie! I can’t. You know what we 
would say. ” 

“Yes, I know,” said Carrie, understanding and 
obeying her father’s insinuation, which was in ac- 


A SHOWER OF GOLD, 


85 


cord ance with her own feelings. “No, Queenie, ” 
firmly, but lovingly, “it cannot be. We shall always 
be thinking of you and care for you just the same; 
but among all your fine people and grand surround- 
ings, there will be no place for the poor strolling 
mountebanks. You will now rise to your proper 
sphere. We will just remain in ours, and pray for 
you, and be thankful and content that you are rich 
and happy.” 

With passionate indignation, Queenie was about to 
combat these generous words, when Mr. Fuller in- 
tervened, in his slow, convincing way: 

“Very sensibly and prettily spoken,” he said, with 
a bow of appreciation to Carrie. 

He was in a way honest in this, for he really 
thought it would be wrong to allow his new client to 
be hampered, in tlie new sphere to which she was to 
be lifted, by these companions of her less fortunate 
days. He was a conservative man, and, from his own 
point of view, perhaps he was not wrong. And yet, 
he was not entirely incrusted with worldliness. The 
big heart, with which he was born, was still beating 
in his breast, and at any moment it was apt to assert 
itself and master all else, all the rules that experi- 
ence had taught him to obey to the contrary. 

But just now he was speaking and acting simply in 
his professional capacity. 

“Now, Miss Carruthers, how soon will you be able 
to accompany me to London?” 

“As soon as possible, dear cousin,” said Haynes, 
pleadingly. 


86 


A SHOWEB OF GOLD. 


“Queeuie, of course you must go as soon as possi- 
ble,” said Jonesio. 

“Ah, 1 might have known this was coming,” 
murmured Mrs. Jones, tearfully, “for it was only last 
night that I darned all her stockings.” 

This was decidedly incoherent, and what the con- 
nection between the darning of her stockings and 
Queenie’s going away might be, no one could tell. 
Perhaps Mrs. Jones could have told. But no one was 
listening to her. 

Queenie knew that her sudden departure would 
put tliem all to great inconvenience, but she deter- 
mined that they should not suffer by it. 

“I will go with you to-morrow morning, Mr. Ful- 
ler,” she said. 

“Very well. On the eleven o’clock express, 
then.” 

And so it was arranged. 

But, after they were gone, Queenie, with clasped 
hands, raised her eyes to Heaven. 

“It seems all like a dream !” she murmured to her- 
self. “A dream in which I pray for my awakening !” 


TEMPTER AND TEMPTED, 


87 


CHAPTER IX. 

TEMPTER AND TEMPTED. 

Rodney Haynes was pretty well satisfied with the 
way everything was progressing. And yet all rested 
upon the new heiress, and the influence over her he 
might manage to obtain. 

Left to himself, and dependant upon his own re- 
sources, the outlook was desperate enough. He had 
fairly “got the knock out,’’ as he put it to himself. 
Nothing more to be expected from the tribe of Solo- 
mon, Isaacs & Company, even with their demands 
of exorbitant interest. There was only one chance 
before him. And that? Why, a ceremony at St. 
George’s, Hanover Square, or some equally swell 
church, of course. Theatrical marriages were fash- 
ionable in high life just at present. He would make 
a new departure, and ally himself to the ring and 
sawdust. 

To be sure, this cousin of his, with her circus 
connections and’ her large fortune, was not exactly 
his style, but when a man was forced to give him- 
self away, it did not much matter who or what was 
the object. Money-bags and lands were the real birds 
nowadays. ^ 

He was thinking all this as he strolled through the 
park in Blackburn an hour or so after his interview 
with Queenie. 


88 


TEMPTER AND TEMPTED. 


He had left Mr. Fuller at the hotel. The lawyer 
was not the associate that was most congenial to him. 

They were both to go to the circus that evening, 
and Haynes felt that this enforced companionship 
was about as much as he could endure. 

He was walking along with bowed head when he 
almost ran into a woman who was approaching from 
the opposite direction. 

He raised his eyes and stood aside with a muttered 
apology. 

Then he stopped, rooted to the ground, while the 
woman and himself gazed into each other’s faces. 

Of all people on earth this was the last person he 
cared to see. And, save for one reason, the same was 
true of her. 

“Hilda Corrode!” he exclaimed, beneath his 
breath. 

“You!” she muttered, staggering back a little, 
with one hand pressed convulsively to her heart. “Is 
it really you?” 

But Haynes was not a man to be long phased by 
anything, natural or supernatural. In a very short 
time he had recovered from his surprise. 

“By Jove, this is a startler!” he said. And then 
he proceeded, in a tone which was anything but 
complimentary to the woman of whom he asked the 
question: “What on earth are you doing here?” 

Hilda Corrode was silent for a moment, her eyes 
never leaving his face. It was not that it was a 
pleasing contemplation to her. Far from it! But 
there was not much that she would not have given to 
be able to read his thoughts, to discover upon his 


TEMPTER AND TEMPTED. 89 

countenance the-secret he was seeking to hide from 
her. 

‘‘Earning my livihg honestly,’’ she answered at 
last, in a hard, emotionless voice. “I hope you can 
say the same.” 

Haynes flushed darkly, but, controlling the anger 
which this insinuation aroused in him, he said, with 
a shrug of his shoulders, and with cynical indiffer- 
ence as to what she might think of the confession 
contained in his words: 

“Thanks, but that is scarcely in my line. And 
how are you earning your living, may I ask?” 

“In the circus.” 

“So, you’ve gone back to the old work, eh?” 

“Yes,” she replied, bitterly, “to the old work of 
dreary drudgery, the pitiful tinseled shams and 
gaudy make-believes, back to it all, with a heart 
broken and dead — killed by a heartless libertine.” 

Haynes drew a cigarette case from his pocket, se- 
lected one of the paper covered rolls of tobacco, and 
calmly lighted it. The heartless libertine referred to 
was himself, and he knew it, but he cared little for 
any epithet that this woman might apply to him. 

“Yes,” he said, with a careless, cynical smile, and 
examining her with anything but flattering eyes, 
with eyes that took in every defect caused by age and 
misery. “Yes, you look a bit different now to what 
you did when you were brilliant Carmine Sivella, 
the mistress of Helliwell Mansion, the aristocratic 
decoy house and gambling den.” 

Hilda shivered and raised one gloved hand, half 
in protest, half in threat. 


90 


TEMTTEE AND TEMPTED. 


“Don’t remind me of that!” she cried, passion- 
atel3% “God help all women tempted as I was. ” 

Rodney Haynes laughed lightly, contemptuously. 

“And like the rest of them,” he said, blowing a 
ring of smoke and watching it as it drifted away, 
“having once fallen, you went the whole pace.” 

Hilda struck her hands together, longing, as she 
did so, that she had his life between them to crush it 
out. 

“If there were no such men as you, Rodney 
Haynes,” she declared, vehemently, “there would 
be no such women as I.” 

And in this, with all her faults, with all that could 
be justly charged against her, she spoke only the 
truth. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred women 
are what men make them. 

But Rodney Haynes cared little for this. The past 
was over. All he cared for was the future, or, to be 
more accurate, the part he was destined to play in 
the future. 

“What rot !” he laughed, sneeringly. “If it hadn’t 
been for that young cub, Valrose, who got the police 
to raid the place, you’d been queening it over Helli- 
well Mansion still. But cat-and-dog interviews are 
not much in my line, so I’ll bid you good-evening,” 

There was not even a backward glance at her, as 
he turned on his heel to depart, and yet these two had 
once fancied themselves desperately in love with 
each other. And now there was nothing save de- 
testation between them. Hate may turn to love, it is 
true, and so may indifference, but it must be the hate 
or indifference which has not been preceded by love. 


TEMFTEU AND TEMPTED. 91 

And yet Hilda detained him. 

‘'No, stay !” she said. “You shall tell me one 
thing before ^ve part. I pray God never to meet you 
again. On the day of the police raid, when you, like 
a coward, left me to face the storm, unaided and 
alone, you took from me all that bound me to life, 
all that gave me a sisterhood among honest women. 
You took from me my little Leila, my child !” 

“Well, what of it?” 

“You must give her back to me! I insist! I de- 
mand!” 

It was the cry of the tortured mother’s heart. It 
was the supplication for the one thing that she knew 
could save her. In the breast of every woman, with 
whom there is existent one remnant of goodness, the 
maternal instinct is predominant. 

But this, Haynes, the father, did not understand ; 
and, if he had, it would have made but little or no 
impression upon him, unless he had seen a possibil- 
ity of utilizing the sacred emotion to his own advan- 
tage. 

“You’re a fool!” he replied, brutally. “What 
could you do with her in this vagabond life?” 

“Oh, Rodney Haynes, can’t you comprehend?” 
implored Hilda. -“I want to feel her little arms 
clinging around my neck ! I want to hold her to my 
heart! I want to hear her call me ‘mother.’ ” 

Haynes flung his cigarette away. 

“No!” he said. “No! You shall never have her ! 
Not to save your life!” 

She threw herself in front of him, with her arms 
outstretched. Villain though he was, he was the one 


92 


TEMPTER AND TEMPTED. 


man wlio could help her, could give her back the 
sole thing that might save her. 

“Stay! You shall not go yet! Yon shall hear all 
I have to say, or I’ll leave the mark of this whip 
upon your cowardly face!” 

She had been exercising Margery that afternoon, 
and still held her riding-whip in her hand. 

Haynes saw that she meant what she said. He 
had no desire to have his handsome face marred by 
a lash of the whip. To temporize was now the best 
policy. 

“That’s rather theatrical, but awfully convinc- 
ing,” he said, with a short laugh, yielding to the 
inevitable, and flinging himself down upon one of 
the benches which was close behind him. “Fire 
away!” 

Then Hilda, woman-like, having won her first ad- 
vantage, determined to make a clean breast of it all. 
She had some faint idea that by doing so she might 
gain her point, although if she had stopped to think, 
taking into consideration the nature of the man 
before her, she would have seen how impossible of 
realization any such hope could be. 

She did not stop to think, however, but rushed 
headlong upon her fate. 

“Since I have had this engagement, a love— a love 
pure and womanl)^ — has crept into my heart, a love 
that makes me shudder with burning shame at the 
weak passion that made me your victim. He is far 
beyond my reach as the Star of the Air, as they call 
him, but my hopeless worship has softened my heart, 


TEMPTER AND TEMPTED. 


93 


purified luy soul, and made me yearn for a higher, 
nobler life !” 

She paused, trembling from head to foot. 

Haynes looked at her curiously. He thought he 
knew women, but he was beginning to make up his 
mind he did not. This was an extraordinary confes- 
sion, and one of which he could not see the drift. 

“Dear me!’’ he drawled. “How interesting! And 
what’s the new flame like? Any resemblance to my 
handsome self?” 

Hilda made a gesture which was anything but 
flattering. 

“To you?” she exclaimed, with a curl of her lip. 
“Why, he is as the lion, you as the jackal !” 

“ThankSj” laughed Haynes, not in the least 
affected by this uncomplimentary comparison. He 
no longer loved the woman who made it, and there- 
fore did not care. “Pity you did not have the same 
exalted opinion of my attractions a few years ago, 
isn’t it? See what a lot of trouble it would have 
saved! Well,” rising, “I congratulate you. Bless 
you, my children ! May you be happy.” 

“Oh, I tell you he is not for me,” rejoined Hilda, 
desperately. “But,” clinging still to the one hope 
she saw before her, “I would take my child, and, in 
some distant country, have a fresh start and earn a 
name that my little one need not blush to own.” 

Haynes lit another cigarette. He had not been 
paying much attention to her and her woes, but he 
was beginning to wonder if there was not some way 
in which he could make her of use. There was no 


94 


TEMFTER AND TEMPTED. 


clearly defined plan in liis mind as yet, but only a 
vague possibility. 

“Tell me,” lie said, “who is this man to whom 
you have given your affections? Does he reciprocate 
your tender passion, or is there some one else? If so, 
do you mind telling me hei name, and his as well?” 

It was an impudent request, but Hilda cared little 
for that. Her one thought, just then, was the recov- 
ery of her child. 

“What can it matter to you?” she answered drear- 
ily, but nevertheless proceeded to give him the in- 
formation. “His name is David Engleheart. And 
she — she is one of the mountebanks at the circus 
here. They call her Carruthers. ” 

Haynes gave vent to a long, low wistle. This did 
matter considerably to him. Here was a chance, and 
his brain *was quick to form a plan to take advan- 
tage of it. 

“Hilda Corrode,” he said, suddenly, “I’ll make a 
bargain with you. Do what I require of you, and I’ll 
guarantee to bring that man to your feet. I’ll give 
you five thousand pounds for your marriage portion, 
and your child shall be restored to you.” 

She looked at him first in amazement, and then 
one expression after another flitted across her mobile 
face. 

“Are you mad?” she said, at last, very slowly. 
“What do you mean?” 

“Don’t speak!” replied Haynes, lowering his 
voice. “Only listen! Have you heard of the new 
fortune that has come to Queenie Carruthers?” 

“No.” 


TEMPTER AND TEMPTED. 


95 


“She has inherited from her uncle, who was also 
my uncle, over one hundred thousand pounds. I was 
the expectant heir, and was disappointed.’’ 

“You!” 

“Yes, I. I am her cousin, the only relative she 
has in the world.” 

Hilda could not repress the exclamation that rose 
to her lips; she knew this man so thoroughly. 

“Then God help her!” 

“Be silent !” commanded Haynes, harshly. “No 
heroics now ! I am on the brink of ruin. This for- 
tune alone can save me. The only way of obtaining 
it is by my marriage with Queenie. Follow me to 
London. I will reopen Helliwell Mansion, with you 
again as its mistress. The girl must be enticed 
there. Leave the rest to me. ” 

“And you require my aid in this?” 

“Yes. Think of the reward. Your lover, your 
child, a fortune.” 

But there was good still left in Hilda Corrode. 
The compact proposed was too horrible. 

“I refuse them all!” she said, haughtily. 

“Then this wire-walker will become his wife.” 

“Let her then, for I could never again look into 
the eyes of the man I love, if I won him at such 
a price. ’ ’ 

Haynes was furious. He had counted upon this 
woman, and now, for some ridiculous scruple, she 
was about to fail him. 

“Lose him then!’’ he exclaimed, savagely. 
“Blight your whole future life, lose your child, sac- 


96 TEMPTER AND TEMPTED. 

rifice a fortune ! And all for the sake of a woman 
you hate!” 

But she was scarcely listening to him. Her face 
had grown very white, and her eyes were fixed upon 
the figure of a man who at that moment chanced to 
pass on the other side of the avenue. Here was a 
better aid to Rodney Haynes than all his arguments. 
For the sight of David Engleheart proceeding in the 
direction of Queenie’s lodgings sent Hilda’s blood 
coursing madly through her veins with jealousy 
and longing. What mattered that girl, after all? 

. She turned to Rodney Haynes. 

“You are right,” she said. “I have reconsid- 
ered.” 

“Is it a bargain, then?” he asked, eagerly. 

“Yes,” she replied, hoarsely. 

It was a terrible blow to David Engleheart when 
he heard the news that Queenie was no longer poor, 
but a rich heiress. ' 

It seemed to him as if a great wall suddenly rose 
up between them. The world which had been so 
bright and sunshiny to him now appeared one dull, 
uncompromising gray. 

No word passed his lips as Queenie enthusiasti- 
cally told him of her great good fortune. He could 
not speak, but, with a white face, turned away to 
hide his emotion. 

“Why, David!” exclaimed Queenie, pained be- 
yond measure. “Why do you turn away from me? 
Why do you not take me to your heart and rejoice 
with me Over the good luck that has come to us?” 


TEMPTEE AND TEMPTED. 97 

‘‘Qiieenie, Miss Carruthers,” replied David, in a 
broken voice, “I ask yon to forget the foolish words 
I spoke to yon, when — when I asked yon to be my 
wife. They were spoken only a few days ago, bnt 
since then the wings of wealth have borne yon far 
beyond my reach. Yon are no longer the White 
Queen of the Slack Wire, bnt Miss Queenie Carrnth- 
ers, who can choose her friends, her life partner from 
among the noblest names of England. All ties 
formed in yonr wandering bohemian life must be 
canceled and forgotten. I — I release you from the 
only chain that binds you to the old life.’’ 

Then Queenie understood, and she loved him even 
more, if that were possible, for his noble disinterest- 
edness. But was the fortune that she had at first 
thought a blessing to prove only a curse? No, she 
would not allow it. 

She went to David, and her eyes shining with the 
love-light, which so long as she lived would never 
die out, she raised her arms and put them about his 
neck. 

‘‘But, David,” she murmured, passionately, “I 
do not release you ! We plighted our troth before 
Heaven, and not all the wealth in the world shall 
come between us!” 


\ '' 


A DECIDED NEGATIVE, 


CHAPTER X. 

A DECIDED negative. 

For over a month Queenie Carruthers had been in 
Eondon. The old life was done with, a new life was 
opening before her. Mr. Fuller had introduced her 
into Eondon society, where she was received with 
enthusiasm, partially for her beauty, but more — 
such is the way of the world — for the large fortune 
she was known to possess. 

At her guardian’s suggestion, she had taken 
apartments at the Burlington, a quiet family hotel. 
But here she was not alone, for Carrie Jones at the 
very last moment, after a conference with her father 
and mother, had decide'd to accompany the girl who 
had been to her as a sister. 

Carrie gave no reason for this save that a woman 
always has a right to change her mind. But she 
could have done so had she cared to. ^By accident, 
she had overheard at the circus, the night before the 
day fixed for Queenie’s departure a few words be- 
tween Hilda Corrode and Captain Rodney Haynes. 
She did not thoroughly understand what these 
words meant, but she realized that they threatened 
some danger to Queenie, and she determined to be 
with her, watch over her, and ward off, if possible, 
any impending peril, 

The two girls, as has been said, had been now in 


A DECIDED NEGATIVE. 


99 


Ivondon for over a month, and, although they had 
written constantly, not one word had been received 
from any one connected with the circus. 

This was a cause of great anxiety to them both, 
an anxiety which would have been allayed, however, 
and turned to righteous indignation could they have 
been present at an interview which took place one 
afternoon in the sitting room of their apartments at 
the Burlington. 

The participants in his interview were two, one a 
waiter, with a thin, cadaverous face whose name 
was Mark Blackwood, and the other Captain Rodney 
Haynes. 

Rodney had been assiduous in his attentions to his 
fair and wealthy cousin, but, conceited though he 
was, he had been forced to confess that these atten- 
tions had not been productive of the results he had 
hoped for. 

Queenie had treated him kindly. More than that! 
In her sympathy for his disappointment, her purse 
had been almost as his own, but he could not lay 
the flattering unction to his soul that he had pro- 
gressed in the slightest degree in her affections. 

It was useless to waste more time, and he had 
come to the Burlington that afternoon with a firm 
determination to discover if there was any chance for 
him to obtain by fair means the fortune he coveted. 
He had not much hope of success, but his plans 
were already laid in case of failure, and despicable 
plans they were, too. 

As he entered the sitting-room he was not entirely 
sorry to find it tenanted by only one person. 


100 


A DECIDED NEGATIVE. 


This person was Mark Blackwood, the waiter, 
who was busily engaged in removing the breakfast 
things. It had been Rodney Haynes’ especial care 
that this particular waiter should be the one to 
attend upon his cousin, and, of course, he had his 
own reasons for seeing that this should be the case. 

“Good-afternoon, captain,” said the waiter, as 
Haynes entered the room. 

Rodney nodded in a manner rather familiar, con- 
sidering the difference in their social stations. 

“Any letters?” he asked, curtly. 

Mark hesitated. Evidently he would have pre- 
ferred not to answer, but, as he was quite well aware, 
he was forced to do so. 

“Well, yes, sir,” he said, reluctantly. “There 
-are two, but— — ” 

“Give them to me!” commanded Haynes, inter- 
rupting and stretching out his hand. “You hear? 
Quick 1” 

“You’re the master,” replied Mark, producing 
the letters, and handing them over. “There they 
are. ” 

Haynes took the two letters, and, with a cynical 
smile, scrutinized the superscriptions. One was 
directed to Miss Queenie Carruthers and the other 
to Miss Carrie Jones. These were not the first 
missives by a good many with the same addresses 
upon them, that had reached the hands for which 
they were not intended. 

He dropped the letters into his pocket. 

“Humph!” he thought to himself. “From Mr. 


A DECIDED NEGATIVE. 


101 


Highly-Trained Muscle and Mr. Young Aspiring 
Genius! So much paper and ink wasted!’’ 

The waiter came forward, with a look of pleading 
upon his pale face. He ought to have known and 
doubtless did know, how hopeless any appeal to the 
captain might be. But still, moved to pity as he 
was for those who had been kind to him, Mark 
Blackwood resolved to try. 

“Beg pardon, captain,” he said, “but 5^ou might 
let me give the young ladies just them two.” 

Rodney Haynes bent upon him a scrutinizing 
glance, -and then he laughed in an amused sort of 
way. It was the laugh of the master of the situation. 

“Why?” he asked, drawlingly. 

But with a slight gesture as if to beg that his 
appeal should be received in a serious manner, Mark 
said, earnestly : 

“You don’t know how hard it is for me to see the 
looks of cruel disappointment on their pretty faces 
when as every post comes in I am obliged to say 
there is nothing for them. Yet I know all the time 
the letters that would lighten their hearts are in my 
pocket waiting to be given up to you. They’re such 
sweet young ladies, too; so civil and good tem- 
pered.” He paused a moment and then went on, 
with a certain suppressed bitterness: “Since I’ve 
been in your power, captain, you’ve set me a lot of 
hard tasks, but nothing that goes against me like 
this.” 

Haynes laughed again, and his laugh this time 
was even more disagreeable than the first. 

“As I entered the hotel I saw Bouncer,” he said. 


102 


A DECIDED NEGATIVE. 


in a reflective manner, more as if lie were speaking 
to himself than to anyone else, “that astute and 
very clever detective, loitering on the steps. Now, 
I wonder what he wanted.’’ 

The effect of these words upon the waiter was 
instantaneous and powerful. He began to shake as 
if suddenly attacked by ague. “You saw him 
here?” he gasped. 

“Yes,” returned Rodney, quietly. “Oh, of course, 
I remember now. He was the nailer that had that 
Charlton Manor job in hand — the case of man- 
slaughter of a policeman by a burglar interrupted at 
his work. The culprit got clean away, and has 
never since been discovered. Pouncer was very 
raw over his failure, but doesn’t despair of captur- 
ing him yet.” 

All thought of protest, of appeal, had now van- 
ished from Mark Blackwood’s mind. The slave was 
once more in the power of his master. 

“Hush, for mercy’s sake !” he whispered, hoarsely, 
glancing about him in a paroxysm of terror. 

Haynes chuckled to himself. He loved domina- 
tion, and it was a great gratification for him to see 
how quickly he had brought this man to his feet. 

“If he had only known what I do, eh?” he said, 
significantly. “If he had only guessed that the iden- 
tical individual was at this moment engaged as 
waiter in a high-class and strictly-respectable family 
hotel?” 

“Don’t, captain, don’t,” pleaded the terrified 
victim of these suppositions, which both knew to be 


A DECIDED NEGATIVE, 


103 


facts. “You may be overheard. Don’t give me 
away !” 

At this Haynes changed from mockery to savage 
earnestness. 

“Then obey me,” he said, fiercely. “Obey me, 
without sign, without word ! I tell you, your whole 
future liberty is in my hands, for, once in the 
clutches of the law, it would be a lifer! Now, 
announce me to Miss Carruthers! Go!” 

Without a word, but with his skeleton-like face 
the color of death, Mark picked up the tray and 
vanished. He was entirely subjugated, and would 
not dare to disobey any command that the captain 
might choose to give him. 

“Idiot!” sneered Haynes to himself. There was 
never a man yet who, however much he might rely 
upon them, did not despise his too-ready tools. 

Then the thoughts of this schemer turned toward 
the object which had brought him to the Burling- 
ton. He must win this heiress and all that she 
represented. But how was it to be managed? He 
preferred the easier way, but if that failed, as fail it 
probably would, then he must have recourse to more 
dangerous but surer methods. 

“Miss Carruthers is here, sir.” 

As Mark made this announcement, he stepped 
aside to allow of the entrance of Queenie. 

Marvelously beautiful, she looked in a gown of 
gray cloth, trimmed with sable. “Fine feathers 
make fine birds,” says tlie proverb, and tlicre is 
much truth in it. But no magnificence of raiment 


104 A DECIDED NEGATIVE. 

could have given Queenie that air of high-bred dis- 
tinction which was one of her natural gifts. 

. “How do you do, Rodney?’’ she said, with 
courtesy, but without warmth of greeting. Then, 
turning to Mark, she asked, anxiously: “Any let- 
ters, waiter?” 

“Nothing, miss.” 

A look of pain came into Queenie’s beautiful eyes, 
and she sighed deeply. 

“That will do. You can go.” 

Mark left the room, but not before a glance, sur- 
charged with meaning, supplicating on the one side 
and threatening on the other, had passed between 
him and Captain Haynes. 

Queenie chanced to intercept the glance, and as 
soon as the door had closed behind the waiter, she 
turned at once to her cousin. 

“Did you ever meet that man, before?” she 
asked, abruptly. 

Rodney started slightly, the question was so un- 
expected. But long experience, in more or less 
ticklish situations, had taught him self-control. 

“Certainly not,” he answered, with an admirable 
assumption of surprise. “Why do you ask?” 

“I suppose it’s my fancy only, but he always ap- 
pears to have such a strange look in his eyes when 
you are here, almost as though you terrified him.” 

Rodney laughed, an easy, natural laugh. If he 
could have acted as well on the stage as he did off, 
he would certainly have made his fortune behind 
the footlights. 


A DECIDED NEGATIVE, 


105 


“What a quaint idea,” lie said as if intensely 
amused. ‘‘Mephistopheles and the student, eh?” 

Queenie made no reply. She was by no means 
satisfied that her first impression had not been the 
correct one, for she had long ago ceased to place 
much trust in this cousin of hers. 

“But, seriously, Queenie,” continued Haynes, 
approaching her deferentially, “I am here to-day on 
a very important matter.” 

“Certainly, Rodney,” replied Queenie, promptly, 
judging the present from the past. “How much? 
My check book is handy.” 

To most men this speech, although it was not 
intended to hurt, would have been a deep humilia- 
tion, but Rodney Haynes was callous. 

“No, it is not that this time,” he said, smiling. 
“I am afraid your banker has seen me too often.” 

“Not at all, Rodney,” answered Queenie, frankly, 
really meaning what she said. “I feel to a certain 
extent that I supplanted you in the possession of 
this great fortune, and am only too pleased to com- 
pensate you so far as my guardian will permit.” 

“You are ever generous, dear cousin.” 

Then throwing into his eyes an expression of the 
deepest tenderness (and it was really admirably done, 
well calculated- to deceive and to have its effect upon 
any one whose affections were not already engaged), 
he continued, very earnestly : 

“But there are things more precious than rent- 
rolls and gold, and it is of these I would speak to- 
day.” 


106 


A DECIDED NEGATIVE. 


“I do not understand you,’’ said Queenie, with a 
vague feeling of uneasiness. 

Haynes drew up two chairs, placing them close 
together. 

“Sit down, Queenie, and hear me patiently.” 

Queenie hesitated a moment and then seated her- 
self, an example which was at once followed by her 
cousin. 

“We are quite alone, Queenie, ” he said, deter- 
mined to play the game, losing one though it might 
be in the beginning, to the best of his ability, “you 
and I, the sole survivors of a race honored by six 
sovereigns and blazoned in the annals of our 
country’s victories. ” 

Queenie had heard much of her family’s distinc- 
tion from Mr. Fuller, and she was proud of all that 
her ancestors had achieved. Rodney could scarcely 
have made a more auspicious beginning. 

“That is true, Rodney,” she said, her cheeks 
flushing. “Our name and fame were indeed brilliant 
in the past. ” She paused a moment, and then a 
thought striking her, she laid her hand upon his 
^arm, and said more imploringly than upbraidingly. 
“1 trust there is no danger of their being tarnished 
in the present.” 

Haynes cast down his eyes as if ashamed of the 
past and then raised them as if confident of the 
future. 

There is no doubt about it. He certainly was a 
great actor. 

“I admit I have been wild and reckless,” he said, 
“but, since knowing you, all is changed. For I 


A DECIDED NEGATIVE. 


101 


have grown to love you, Queenie, love you 
with- 

But Queenie stopped the 'flow of words by with- 
drawing the hand he attempted to take, and rising 
hastily to her feet. 

This declaration did not come to her in the nature 
of a surprise. She had long suspected that some- 
thing of the sort would happen sooner or later, and 
she was rather relieved than otherwise that it had 
come. It gave her an opportunity of putting an end 
to her cousin’s aspirations, and so sparing herself 
the daily ordeal of his hateful attentions. 

“Stop!” she exclaimed. “Say no more. It will 
only be painful to me and the cause of useless 
humiliation to yourself. ” 

Haynes rose also, his brow contracted in an ugly 
frown. 

“At least you will give me an answer.” 

“Certainly if you insist,” replied Queenie, firmly. 
“My answer is No. ” 

Rodney Haynes bit his lip in anger. He had 
rushed upon his fate, and he knew it. But still he 
would not desist. 

“I have surprised, startled you,” he said. “In 
the future, perhaps— — ” 

“Never!” interrupted Queenie, peremptorily. “I 
would not marry you if there was not another man 
in the woi:ld. I would die first!” 

“May I ask what I have done to incur such 
enmity?” asked Haynes, with difficulty restraining 
his anger at this inflexible assertion. 

“I do not know that I should call it enmity. I 


108 


A DECIDED negative. 


cannot tell just what it is. It is instinct, I suppose — 
the common instinct that God has implanted in our 
hearts to enable us to recognize our friends and warn 
us of our foes. ” 

Haynes now let his anger master him. 

“Ah! you see I am only a private individual,” 
he said, with a bitter sneer. “It’s a pity I’m not a 
Star of the Air in all the glitter of spangles and 
tinsel. ” 

Queenie’s spirit, too,- was now aroused. She 
turned upon him with crimsoned cheeks and flash- 
ing, indignant eyes. 

“It’s'a pity you are not a man!” she declared, 
vehemently. “It’s a pity you won’t earn an honest 
livelihood instead of insulting a defenseless girl who 
has shown nothing but kindness and consideration 
for you !” 

It was a duel now, a duel without fear and with- 
out favor. 

“You will have to wait until you are of age, my 
fair cousin, before your montebank can claim you. 
And in that time your sentiments may undergo a 
change.” 

“Never! I would wait for him though it were a 
lifetime of years, till my hair was white, my eyes 
dim with age, for I know that he would come to me 
at last to grasp my trembling hand in his!” 

“How do you know that even now he has not 
found some other love? He has not written a line 
to you.” 

Oueenie faced him sharply, suspicion amounting 
to a. certainty framing itself in her mind. 


A DECIDED NEGATIVE. 


109 


“How do you know that?” she demanded. 

Rodney Haynes was confused for just a moment. 
In his excitement, he had said too much. But his 
natural effrontery soon came to his rescue. 

“Well, the servants in the hotel told me so.” 

“May I ask,” said Qneenie, drawing herself up 
\jjroudly, “what necessity there was to canvass my 
private affairs with the servants?” 

“I am your only relative,” retorted Haynes, 
brazening the matter out, “and it is my duty to see 
that advantage is not taken of your foolishness and 
inexperience.” 

Qneenie laughed — a short, scornful laugh. 

“I thank you for your caution, which I will profit 
by,” she said, sweeping him a sarcastic curtsey. 

Then she touched the bell. 

“And, as the first step, I order you to leave this 
room !” 

“Have you no fear — ” began Haynes, but he was 
interrupted by the entrance of Mark Blackwood. 

It was certainly a marvelously quick answer to 
Queenie’s summons, too quick to be explained in 
any other way than that the waiter was just outside 
the door, possibly, very probably, listening. 

“Show this gentleman to the door,” commanded 
Qneenie, extending her arm with an imperious 
gesture. “Should he call again, I am not at home.” 

Mark turned away his head to hide the grin of 
satisfaction he could not repress. It was with infinite 
delight that he witnessed the humiliation of this 
man who held him in his power and who would not 
relax his grasp. 


110 


A DECIDED NEGATIVE. 


Haynes caught up his hat, with a smothered 
malediction. 

He bowed with mock courtesy to Queenie, saying: 

“Our next meeting may be sooner than you im- 
agine, my fair cousin.” 

Queenie, with head erect, a bright spot burning 
on each cheek, made no response; and Rodney 
Haynes got out of the room with what dignity he 
could. 

He was in a savage temper as he went down the 
stairs, but he would not acknowledge himself 
beaten. No! This was only the beginning of the 
battle, the preliminary shots, so to speak. And with 
the resources he had in reserve, he had little doubt 
who would be the victor in the end. 

Fair means had failed. Now for the other 1 


THE BAITING OF THE TRAP, 


111 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE BAITING OF THE TRAP. 

“Has. he gone, Queenie?” 

The words were spoken in a half whisper, as 
Carrie caiitiousl}' put her head in at the door leading 
to the bedroom. 

“Yes, dear. ” 

The door was pushed open, and Carrie came into 
the sitting room, but what a change, at least in out- 
ward appearance, from the Carrie of the circus ! 

Queenie had insisted that her foster sister should 
have some share in the riches that had been poured 
into her lap, and. Carrie’s wardrobe was quite as 
elaborate as her own. 

Carrie was a pretty girl and a girl of innate refine- 
ment, and she soon adapted herself to her new sur- 
roundings. No one would have guessed,^ from her 
air or manner, that her whole life had not been 
passed in the very best society. But there was 
something better to be said about her than this — she 
was honest and true-hearted to the core; once a 
friend she was a friend forever, and selfishness was a 
quality which did not enter into her composition. 

“I haven’t had much experience of swells,” she 
said to Queenie, with an uplifting of her nose, “but 
that specimen always seems as though he’d just 
come home from the wash, and the laundress had 


m THE BAITING OF THE TRAF. 

put too much starch in his linen. Any letters, 
dear?” 

“No, nothing,” sighed Queenie. 

“A whole month and not a line from any one,” 
exclaimed Carrie, indignantly. “Those two faithless 
brutes. ” 

“Oh, hush, Carrie!” said Queenie in a pained 
tone. 

“I can’t hush!” retorted Carrie, rebelliously. “I 
must express my feelings, or I shall break some-' 
thing. Your David is so good and handsome that I 
thought the wretches of women might have left him 
alone, but my Sammy’s such an ugly little fellow, I 
knew they’d all go for him.” 

In spite of the anxiety and pain she felt at her 
lover’s silence, Queenie could not refrain from 
laughing. 

“Why,” she said, “I thought it was only the 
good-looking men who were irresistible to our poor 
sex.” 

“Lor, no, dear,” replied Carrie, with superior 
wisdom. “Some of us choose our sweethearts as we 
do our pug-dogs, for their ugliness. I loved him 
because he was knock-kneed, bandy-legged, and had 
hair that you could light matches by. He got cuffed 
and jumped on all over the circus, and all for my 
sake; but now, when he comes a cropper, some 
other girl bathes his poor nose and mends him up 
with sticking plaster.” 

As poor Carrie conjured up this heart-rending 
picture she began to cry, and they were genuine 
tears of wounded pride and jealousy. Now that she 


THE BAITING OF THE TRAP. 113 

felt herself forsaken and ill-treated, she began to 
care for Sammy more than ever. Such is the 
nature of some women. The old fable to the con- 
trary, the grapes that hang beyond their reach are 
not sour at all, but the very sweetest in the world. 

Queenie put her arms about the sobbing girl, and 
did her best to comfort her. 

“We will believe them both true until we hear 
from their own lips that they are false, ” she said 
tenderly. 

And then, in spite of herself, she began to cry 
herself. 

“Where are they? Where are they?” cried a 
loud, impatient voice just outside the sitting-room 
door. 

Both girls started to their feet, and their tears 
ceased to flow, as if by magic. 

“For goodness sake stand aside, man,” went on 
the voice, with increased irritation. 

Then the door was flung open and the portly 
form of Mrs. Jones stood in the opening. 

In another instant Queenie' and Carrie were en- 
folded in her motherly embrace, while she panted 
out in the intervals of her kisses : 

“Oh, you naughty, darling, good-for-nothing 
girls, how could you serve us all so?” 

After the first raptures of meeting were over, Mrs. 
Jones’ hat and wrap were removed by affectionate 
hands, and the good lady was comfortably estab- 
lished upon the sofa, with Queenie on one side and 
Carrie on the other. 

“There, now that I have had a good hug,” she 


114 


THE BAITING OF THE TRAP. 


said, with a sigh of contentment, “let’s have a look at 
you both. Lor, now, what stylish gowns! But,” 
scrutinizing their faces more attentively, “the Lon- 
don air doesn’t seem to agree with you, for neither 
of you look well. And — and you’ve both been 
crying.” 

“It’s nothing, mother,” replied Carrie, turning 
away her head a little. And then she asked suddenly, 
more to chauge the subject than anything else: 

“Where’s father?” 

“Oh, my dear, I had to leave him behind to mind 
the show. We have decided to keep on until the 
cold weather sets in. But business has not been very 
brisk since we lost our little White Queen, so he 
sent me to London in search of novelties.” 

A question had been trembling upon Qneenie’s 
lips ever since Mrs. Jones’ first appearance', and now 
she could no longer resist the desire to ask it. 

“I hope Dave — Mr. Engleheart — is quite well.” 

“And I trust Sam — ^Mr. Blythe — has broken his 
neck,” supplemented Carrie with a vicious intona- 
tion, although she was almost as anxious for news 
as was Queenie. 

The whole expression of Mrs. Jones’ face changed 
and became hard and forbidding. 

“However you two girls had the cheek to ask 
after those poor young fellows gets over me,” she 
exclaimed indignantly. “I could never have be- 
lieved, Queenie, that riches could have so altered 
you. And as for you, my girl,” turning to Carrie, 
“you’ll just march home with me, and your father 
will talk to you as they do in his native Italy, 


THE BAItlNa OF THE TRAP. IIG 

'The astonishment of her hearers at this speech 
was supreme. 

“Why, mother,” cried Qneenie, “what do you 
mean? We’ve both written every day.” 

“Yes, and twice on Sundays,” added Carrie. 

It was now Mrs. Jones’ turn to be astonished. She 
knew her daughters (for Queenie Would always be 
a daughter to her) too well to doubt their word for 
^ single instant. 

“You have! Then all I can say is that not one of 
them has ever reached Signor Jonesio’s Grand Cos- 
mopolitan Circus. And the money those two poor 
lads” — Mrs. Jones’ feelings toward Sammy had, in 
her pity for him, undergone a revulsion, and she 
was inclined now to favor the match with her 
daughter rather than oppose it — ^“and the amount of 
money those two poor lads spent in postage stamps, 
waiting for every post with white faces and broken 
hearts!” 

A wave of pity swept over Queenie, only to be 
swallowed up by another and far greater wave of joy 
and relief. Dave was true to her ! His love was 
still hers ! 

“But, Queenie,” exclaimed Carrie, after her first 
moment of surprise, “what on earth can have be- 
come of the letters?” 

‘•I think lean guess, dear,” replied Queenie, 
quietly, although her gentle heart was filled with 
unaccustomed anger and indignation at the suspicion 
which had dawned upon her, “but we’ll see to that 
later.” 


116 THE BAITING OF ^HE TRAP. 

“Well, as I said to Sammy in the train,” began 
Mrs. Jones. 

Carrie jumped to her feet. 

“In the train !” she interrupted excitedly. “What, 
is he with you?” 

“Lord! You don’t think I’d trust myself in 
London alone! Why, I haven’t been here since I 
rode bare-backed before the Prince of Wales, 
when ” 

But Carrie, who was never very tolerant of her 
mother’s reminiscences, was less inclined than ever 
to be so at the present moment. 

“Never mind that, mother,” she interrupted 
again, even more impatiently than before. “Where 
is he now?” 

“Well,” replied Mrs. Jones, half laughing and 
half anxious, “should there be anything left of him, 
I think you’ll find it outside on the pavement. I 
last saw him there having a fight with the cabman.” 

Carrie darted toward the door, but before she 
could reach it, it was opened, and the young gentle- 
man in question appeared, led by the waiter. 

And a most disreputable object he was. His 
clothes were covered with mud, his hat crushed in, 
his nose bleeding and his eyes decidedly damaged. 

“Are you there, missus?” he asked, blinking 
pitifully, as the waiter discreetly retired. 

“Of course I’m here!” answered Mrs. Jones with 
a sniff. “Can’t you see me?” 

But that was just the point. Unlucky Sammy 
could not see her nor any one else at that moment. 
In a forlorn voice, he proceeded to tell the story of 


THE BAITING OF THE TRAP. 


117 


his misfortunes. How he had come to blows with 
the cabman in an altercation over the fare, and had 
emerged decidedly the worse from the encounter. 

“But, oh, missus,” he concluded, “have you 
found ’em?” 

“Of course I have,” replied Mrs. Jones, cheer- 
fully. “Queenie^and Carrie are here.” 

Sammy’s face, dilapidated as it was, assumed an 
expression of delight, and, with arms outstretched, 
he began feeling about as one does when playing 
blind man’s buff. 

But, unfortunately, he caught the wrong person. 
It was Mrs. Jones’ ample figure he enveloped in his 
embrace. 

“Oh, Carrie, Carrie!” he exclaimed, rapturously. 
And then he added in amazement and with a dis- 
tinct note of dissatisfaction, “but ain’t you put on 
flesh since I last held you in these arms!” 

Mrs. Jones pushed him indignantly away. 

“Don’t be a fool !” she ejaculated, snappishly. 

This uncomplimentary appellation filled Sammy 
with dismay at his mistake, but still he managed to 
plead piteously : • 

“Won’t you come to me, Carrie. Pity the poor 
blind!” 

Queenie had been laughing. But now, her heart, 
which was always open to sympathy, reproached her 
for being amused at another’s woes, however comical 
they might be. 

“Come, Carrie,” she pleaded, “go and comfort 
him.” 

“Comfort that!” exclaimed Carrie, disgustedly. 


118 THE BAITING OF THE TRAP, 

“Look at him! A pretty article to fret about for a 
whole month, ain’t he?” 

Sammy tried to grope his way toward her, mur- 
muring tragically : 

“I cannot gaze upon her, but I can feel her 
voice.” 

Then Carrie relented somewhat, and, crossing to 
him, she took him by the arm. 

“Yes,” she said, a smile gradually appearing 
upon her pretty face, “and, if you weren’t such a 
pretty specimen of broken crockery ware, you should 
feel her hand. Come here, do!” 

This was quite like old times, and Sammy sub- 
missively allowed himself to be seated in a chair 
and to have Carrie, with her handkerchief, make 
him a little more presentable. 

Seeing that peace was likely to be restored be- 
tween these two, Queenie turned to Mrs. Jones. 

“And now, mother dear,” she said, “come to my 
room, and make yourself comfortable.” 

“That I will,” replied Mrs. Jones, heartily, “for 
I’m dying for a cup of tea.” 

“You shall have it at once, dear. And you shall 
tell me all the new^s of the dear old circus, and — 
and — — ” hesitating a little, “of him.” 

She put her arm affectionately within that of her 
adopted mother, and led her away. 

“There!” said Carrie, giving a final dab at Sam- 
my’s face. “Can you see better now?” 

“Yes,” he replied, delightedly, “there you' are, 
Carrie! Wait a minute! One, two, three, four 


THE BAITING OF THE TRAP, 


119 


Carries, floating on clouds and stars shooting all 
over you!” 

“Well never mind the clouds and stars, or the 
other Carries. I guess this one will be enough for 
you.” 

She seated herself by his side, and Sammy could 
see quite well enough to steal his arm about her 
waist. She did not repulse him, but asked with 
genuine interest: 

“How are you getting on in the profession, 
Sammy?” 

“Oh, splendidly !” But his tone belied the words. 
“Becoming quite a favorite. Only had one egg 
thrown at me last Saturday.” 

“But how could they spare you from the show?” 

“Oh,” ruefully, “the boss said perhaps they’d 
take more money if I was away.” 

Carrie burst into a merry peal of laughter, which, 
in spite of the fact that it was at his expense, was 
music in Sammy’s ears; he had so long been a 
stranger to it. 

Then Carrie had a score of questions to ask about 
her old associates, and there was some little talk, 
too, about their own future. 

Finally she insisted that he should come and have 
his bruises properly washed and dressed. 

“Yes, indeed,” assented Sammy, eagerly. “It 
will be like the dear old days.” 

But Carrie, just as they were about to leave the 
room, suddenly paused, and, turning upon him a 
scrutinizing look, asked severely : 


m 


THE BAITim OF THE TRAP. 


'‘Yes, but who’s been bathing your crushed 
features since I’ve been -away?” 

“No one, Carrie, I swear it!” asseverated Sammy, 
with the utmost intensity of which he was capable, 
and without committing perjury. “I’ve been saving 
it all up for you. ” 

Carrie laughed, but she wa^ satisfied. 

And so it happened that when Queenie returned 
to the sitting-room, after Mrs. Jones, tired with her 
journey, had dropped off to sleep, she found it un- 
occupied. 

She was not sorry for this, for she wanted to be 
alone for a while with her own thoughts. All that 
Mrs. Jones had told her had made her supremely 
happy. The troubles that had beset her, vanished, 
as clouds roll away and disperse to give place to 
sunshine. The man she loved loved her. This was 
enough for her in the present, and for the future as 
well, no matter what it might bring, if he still con- 
tinued to love her. And he would, he would! Never 
again should the slightest doubt be allowed to assail 
her. She was as sure of him as she was of herself. 

Not long, however, was fate to permit her to in- 
dulge in these happy reflections. 

She was aroused from her day dreams by a rap 
upon the door, followed by the entrance of the 
waiter, Mark Blackwood. 

He carried a silver salver, upon which reposed a 
letter. 

He gave one quick glance about the room to be 
sure that Miss Carruthers was alone, and then ad- 
vanced toward her. 


THE BAITING OF THE TRAP. 


121 


‘‘Beg pardon, miss,’’ he said, deferentially, “but 
a messenger has just arrived with this note, and 
bade me give it to you at once, as it is a matter of 
life and death. ” 

Queenie rose hastily, her sweet face paling. Wfe 
and death ! What could it mean? 

She took the letter, tore open the envelope, and, 
with rapidly beating heart, read as follows: 

Helliwell Mansion, Pace street, Piccadilly. 

Dear Madam : — I regret to inform you that a very serious cab 
accident has this morning occurred just outside my house. A 
gentleman was violently thrown out and so seriously injured that 
it was deemed unsafe to remove him to the hospital, so I had 
him carried into my dwelling where he is now lying in a pre- 
carious condition. From his card, I gather that he is a circus 
performer named David Eiigleheart. There is no further means 
of identifying him except an unposted letter addressed to your- 
self. If he is a friend of yours, please come at once or it may be 
too late. Yours sincerely, Mary Sargent. 

No news could be more terrible than this, coming, 
as it did, in the very midst of the happy relief from 
the anxiety which had been torturing her for weeks 
past. 

She swayed a little and turned so white that Mark 
Blackwood, who for reasons of his own had remained 
in the room, thought she was about to faint. 

“Excuse me, miss,” he hastened to say, “but the 
messenger is waiting outside in a cab for your 
answer.” 

These words restored the distracted girl partially 
to herself. Her head was whirling, her heart was 
throbbing wildly. There was but one thing to be 
done. She must go to him without delay. 


122 THE BAITING OF THE TRAP. 

She caught up her hat, which happened to be 
lying upon the table. 

“I will return with the messenger instantly,” she 
said to the waiter in a husky voice. 

But she must leave some word for her friends. 

She seated herself at a little desk in the room, 
and hastily wrote the following line: 

David is in danger. I go to him. Queenie. 

As she rose from the de^k, she dropped upon the 
floor, unperceived either by herself or by Mark 
Blackwood, the letter which had summoned her 
away. 

Her mind was in a tumult. Was she to be united 
again to the man she loved only to part with him 
forever? Heaven grant that she be in time to hear 
his dear voice, to bid him live or to take her with 
him to the land of shadows! 

With this prayer in her heart, she sw’ept past the 
waiter and from the room. 

As his eyes followed her, Mark Blackwood’s dark, 
sullen face grew darker and more sullen still. 

“The bait has taken!” he thought to himself, 
“Another piece of dirty work for you, Rodney 
Haynes! My side of the ledger is nearly filled ! One 
day I may want a settlement!” 


THE SCENT OF DANGEB. 


123 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE SCENT OF DANGER. 

Mr. Samuel Blythe and his sweetheart were seated 
side by side and hand in hand upon the sofa in the 
sitting-room. 

After the skilful ministrations of Carrie, a science 
gained by long experience, Sammy really looked 
quite like himself. He bore but few traces of the 
recent fracas. Moreover, he was radiant with de- 
light, for she had never been so kind to him before, 
and he had almost persuaded her to promise 
definitely that she would one day become his wife. 

It was therefore with feelings of unmixed disgust 
that he saw the door of Queenie’s bedroom open and 
his future mother-in-law appear. 

She was really a very nice old lady, but why 
couldn’t she have staid away just a little longer? 

With a blush, Carrie snatched away her hand and 
withdrew to the very further end of the sofa. She 
knew only too well from past experience that her 
mother did not approve of Sammy as a suitor, and 
she by no means realized Mrs. Jones’ recent change 
of heart. 

She expected nothing less than a rare scolding, in 
which Sammy, of course, would come in for his 
share. ' ^ . 

But Mrs. Jones scarcely glanced at them. She was 


124 


THE SCENT OF DANGEB. 


not thinking just then of her daughter’s matrimonial 
ventures, advantageous or otherwise. 

She was more or less worried over quite another 
matter. 

Upon awakening a few minutes before, she had 
rung the bell and asked for Miss Carruthers, only to 
be informed that that young lad-y was not in the 
hotel. 

She thought it ratlier strange that Queenie 
should have gone away and left her alone, especially 
as it was doubtful how long her stay was to be. So, 
she hastened to find Carrie and question her, 

‘‘Where is Queenie?” she asked abruptly. 

“Queenie!” echoed Carrie, in surprise. “Why, I 
thought she was with you.” 

“Well, she’s not,” with the testiness of growing 
anxiety. “More than that, she’s not in the hotel.” 

At this Carrie, beginning to be alarmed in her 
turn, rose to her feet. She, knew that Queenie never 
went out alone, even in the daytime, and now it was 
already dark. Her alarm was increased when she 
saw that Queenie’s hat was gone. 

Then, her quick eye caught sight of the slip of 
paper upon the desk. 

She hurried over, caught it up, and read aloud : 

David is in danger. I go to him. Queenie. 

“What does she mean?” ejaculated Mrs. Jones. 
“David in danger. Why, he’s safe at the show down 
in Reading.” 

“It looks like a plant,” observed Sammy, senten- 
tiously. 


THE SCENT OF DANGER. 


125 


As sl-ie lieafd this, Carrie started as if she had been 
shot, and her color faded. With a rapidity of 
thought quicker than words, she had put two and 
two together. When she had accompanied Queenie 
to London, she had determined to be so vigilant, 
and yet she had allowed herself to be overreached. 

“Yes,’’ she cried excitedly, “and I’ll wager the 
captain’s at the bottom of it!” 

Mrs. Jones was just about to demand an explana- 
tion of these words, when the waiter announced Mr. 
Furnaby Fuller. 

The troubled lady recognized the lawyer at once, 
and she started toward him with an exclamation of 
relief and hope. 

“Oh I Thank goodness, here’s somebody that can 
advise us I” 

Mr. Fuller looked from one to the other in mild 
surprise. He saw at once that something out of the 
common course had occurred, but his face remained 
almost impassive. He was accustomed to deal with 
all sorts and conditions of men, and had learned on 
most occasions to wear a mask. 

“You appear agitated,” he said, in his slow, 
grave tones. “I wish to see Miss Carruthers. ” 

“You can’t, sir,” said Carrie, with a catch in her 
voice, at the same time clasping her hands nerv- 
ously together. “She’s gone. ” 

“Gone!” repeated the lawyer, raising his eyebrows 
slightly and by no means understanding. “What do 
you mean?” 

Carrie handed him Queenie’s short and unsatis- 
factory note. 


126 


THE SCENT OF DANGER. 


“See, sir; she left this during our absence. But 
she must have been decoyed away on false pretences, 
as Mr. Engleheart is safe and well down at Reading.’’ 

Mr. Fuller read the note over carefully twice. 
Then he began to share the anxiety of the others. 
The old gentleman had become most sincerely at- 
tached to his ward, and he would have felt it deeply 
should any misfortune befall her. 

“It’s most extraordinary,” he acknowledged 
gravely, and then he gave a rapid order. “Ring 
'for the waiter!” 

Mrs. Jones at once obeyed, and touched the 
electric bell. 

“She can’t have left the hotel without being 
noticed,” said Mr. Fuller, reflectively. 

Mrs. Jones was about to speak and tell what she 
had heard, when Mark Blackwood ■ appeared in 
answer to the summons. In fact, he had been just 
outside, expecting something of the sort. 

Mr. Fuller gave the clean shaven, hatchet faced 
man one quick, sharp glance, and then he asked 
abruptly : 

“When did you see Miss Carruthers last?” 

“About half an hour ago, sir.” 

“You told me an hour!” exclaimed Mrs. Jones. 

“Well, it might have been, ma’am,” returned 
Mark, respectfully. “I’ve got a bad memory.” 

Sammy Blythe, who was listening with all liis 
ears, thought to himself that he would bet it was a 
mighty convenient one as well, and this opinion 
was shared by the more experienced and more artute 
lawyer. 


ir 


THE SCENT OF DANGER. 


127 


‘‘Did you see her go out?” asked Mr. Fuller. 

“No, sir. Not exactly. That is, I saw her go 
down stairs with her hat on.” 

“That will do. You may go.” 

Mark turned to leave the room, but as he did so, 
his eye 'fell .upon a folded sheet of paper that lay 
upon the carpet, and it flashed upon him that this 
might be the decoy letter, and that it behooved him 
to secure it. He sidled toward it, stooped and 
picked it up. 

But, before he could thrust it into his pocket it 
was snatched from his hand by Sammy Blythe, who 
had witnessed the whole proceeding. 

“That belongs to youi betters!” cried the success- 
ful captor triumphantly. 

Mark bit his lip angrily, and he made a slight 
movement as if he would seek to recover the prize. 
But he evidently thouglit better of this idea, for a 
second afterward, he stej)ped back, and said in the 
monotonous tones of a well-trained servant: 

“Beg pardon, sir, thoughtdt was waste paper.” 

But, when he was alone in the hall outside, he 
muttered to himself, angry at his own lack of suc- 
cess ; 

“He’ll read the address, then the game’s up. The 
captain must be warned.” 

Evidently Mark Blackwood did not consider that 
the time had yet come in which to shake off his 
master’s thralldom. 

His surmise, however, w^as perfectly correct, for 
Sammy Blythe did open the letter at once. After a 
hasty perusal of its contents, he cried out exultantly. 


128 


THE SCENT OF DANGER. 


“Here’s where she’s gune to — Helliwell Mansion, 
Pace street, Piccadilly. ” 

To Mrs. Jones and Carrie this was an address and 
nothing more, but to Mr. Fuller it opened up the 
most terrible possibilities. For once, the lawyer was 
shaken out of his usual calmness. 

“Good Heavens!” he exclaimed, excitedly. 
“Then the matter is far more serious than I im- 
agined, and the girl is in deadly peril.” 

There was something in his manner that was even 
more terrifying than his words, and the others, pale 
with apprehension, gathered about him. 

“What do you mean?” they demanded in unison. 

Mr. Fuller did not keep Jhem in suspense, but at 
once imparted to them the information he possessed. 

“Helliwell Mansion is notorious as one of the 
worst of all the aristocratic dens of infamy in Lon- 
don. It is frequented by the most debauched, and 
only this morning the papers declare that it’s exist- 
ence is a crying shame and disgrace to the 
metropolis. ” 

Mrs. Jones and Carrie shrank back in horror at 
the thought of Queenie in such a place. But upon 
Sammy Blythe’s homely face was a look of new 
found determination that made it almost handsome. 

“That’s good enough for me!” he exclaimed. 
“Good-by, Carrie.” 

Carrie, who understood what was in his mind, 
rushed to him, and caught him by the arm. 

“Sammy, don’t be a fool,” she said in a trem- 
bling voice. “It’s no good you going there by 
yourself.” » 


THE SCENT OF BANGER, 


129 


“Isn’t it? You wait and see, iny girl.” 

“Eut what are you going to do?” 

“Find out if I suit !’ ' 

And, before she could say anything more to dis- 
suade him from his purpose, which, truth to tell, 
was as single hearted as that of any champion of 
old, he had shaken off her grasp and dashed from 
the room. 

“What in the world can the boy mean?” gasped 
Mrs. Jones. 

But it was no time to discuss this. Matters were 
entirely too grave, as Mr. Fuller felt. 

“There is only one thing to be done,” he said, 
his tone and manner full of disquietude. “Goat 
once to Scotland Yard, and obtain a warrant to 
search the Mansion.” 

“And in the meantime,” wailed Carrie, “Queenie, 
my own dear sister, may become their victim.” 

Mrs. Jones, the tears rolling down her plump 
cheeks, wrung her hands in helpless torture. 

“My poor child!” she faltered. “Who can help 
us to rescue you?” 

As if this appeal had been heard and answered by 
some unseen power, almost immediately the voice 
of the waiter was heard, announcing Mr. David 
Engleheart. 

And David stood there before them, looking every 
inch the gentleman he was in a new and fashionable 
suit, and with a look of eager expectancy upon his 
handsome face. 

Carrie and her mother started toward him witli 
cries of “David ! David!” 


130 


THE SCENT OF DANGER. 


“Yes, David,’’ he replied, his eyes wandering 
about the room in search of some one who was not 
there. “Forgive me for not warning you of my 
arrival, but I could endure the suspense no longer. 
This silence was slowly driving me mad. So, after 
your departure, Mrs. Jones, I took the next train. I 
wanted to hear from her own lips whether she was 
true or false, whether the coming of this great 
fortune had turned her heart from me.” 

“No, my poor David,” said Mrs. Jones, with a 
sob. “Her heart is as true, good and kind as when 
we called her our little White Queen. But — but — 
tell him, Carrie.” 

And the big-hearted woman broke down com- 
pletely. 

David’s roving eyes were instantly riveted upon 
their faces, and his own cheeks were blanched with 
a sudden agony of fear. 

“Why, what is it?” he exclaimed in low, tense 

tones. “You are both weeping. It cannot be 

My God, it isn’t death !” 

“Oh, no, David, not that,” Carrie hastened to 
reply, controlling herself as well as possible. “Per- 
haps nothing at all serious, but we are a little 
frightened, and — and ” 

David caught her by the shoulder and absolutely 
shook her in the torture of his suspense. He neither 
thought nor cared whether he were hurting her or 
not, he who had always been gentle courtesy itself 
to women. But, in his agony, he had become 
almost a savage, with one object in view, to discover 
the truth without delay. 


THE SCENT OF DANGER. 


131 


But here, fortunately, Mr. Fuller intervened, 
speaking in clear, full tones that did much to re- 
store David to himself, even while the words uttered 
caused him the most intense solicitude and alarm. 

“Miss Carruthers, sir,” said the lawyer, “under 
the pretence that you had met with an accident, 
has been decoyed to a notorious gambling den called 
Helliwell Mansion.” 

David’s hand fell from Carrie’s shoulder, and for 
an instant he stood perfectly motionless. Then he 
said slowly, and with manifest effort; 

“Helliwell Mansion! Why, that is the place 
which, quite by accident, we discovered Hilda Cor- 
rode had made for, when she vanished from the 
circus. ” 

As she heard this, Carrie recovered her com- 
posure. Dashing the tears from her eyes, she cried : 

“Then I was right! Captain Haynes is at the 
bottom of this. They’re working together. I knew 
it from something I heard them say at Blackburn.” 

“Heaven help the poor girl!” ejaculated Mr. 
Fuller. “What can we do ?” 

David turned toward him, his splendid figure 
erect, and his eyes gleaming with suppressed passion. 

“What can we do? Go to the place and demand 
her !” 

“But think of the danger,” protested Mr. Fuller. 

“What do I care for the danger? The life and 
honor of the woman I love are in peril, and I will 
not leave one brick standing upon another till I have 
found her. ” 

And he certainly looked as if he ^vould accomplish 


132 


THE SCENT OF DANGER, 


his purpose. Surely no woman ever had a braver or 
more devoted lover. He was worthy in every respect 
of the lady of his heart, the lovely girl who had 
given herself into his keeping. 

Mr. Fuller was impressed, and yet, cautions as he 
was by nature and training, he shook his head 
despondently. 

“You will be but one against many.’’ 

“Ido not fear them!” cried David, in clarion 
tones of defiance. “Let them but bar my way, and 
they shall see what a single arm, hardened by manly 
training and cleanly living, can do against their 
shattered frames, weakened in the unhallowed sin 
of a great city 1 It will be God help those who seek 
to keep her from me!” 


TWO WOMEN AND A MAN. 


1S(S 


CHAPTER XIII. 

TWO WOMEN AND A MAN. 

In a small street leading from one of London’s 
most famous and aristocratic thoroughfares was situ- 
ated the place known as the Helliwell Mansion. It 
was a large and handsome house which had for- 
merly belonged to one of the nobility. 

There was nothing in its external appearance to 
indicate its character, nothing to show how many 
lives had been wrecked there, how many had entered 
its portals, happy and well-to-do, only to be thrown 
out in the gray dawn, ruined and hopeless. 

A shrewd looker-on, however, who should stand 
across the street for half an hour any evening in the 
week, would have forlned a pretty clear idea of the 
nature of the place. All the curtains were closely 
drawn, but still there were gleams of light from every 
window. The number of visitors w’as large, too 
large for a private house, and while many of the 
men were irreproachable so far as their appearance 
went, all the women were too flashily dressed and 
wore too many jewels. Moreover, the policeman on 
that beat, watched the house narrowl)^, pausing fre- 
quently before it. All of which, to the initiated, 
would be suspicious, to say the least of it. 

The interior of the house was gorgeous in the ex- 
treme, resplendent with gilding, mirrors and furiii- 


134 


TWO WOMEN ANT) A MAN 


tiire covered with velvet and brocade of vivid hues. 
The second floor was the place where most of the 
business went on. It consisted of a large reception 
room out of which opened a half-dozen or so smaller 
rooms, devoted to gambling and wine parties. 

In this glittering reception room we shall find one 
evening the virtual, though not ostensible, proprie- 
tor of the place. Captain Rodney Haynes. 

The captain was alone in the reception room, but 
from behind two or three of the closed doors came 
occasional bursts of hysterical laughter, although it 
was still early in the evening. 

Haynes was in' high good humor to-night. He had 
just heard from a man he had posted in front of the 
Burlington Hotel that the bait had taken and his 
cousin had driven off in the cab evidently en route 
for the Helliwell Mansion. Once inside, those inno- 
cent eyes of hers would open with surprise and fear, 
and then he would know how to tame her. To cage 
the bird was the chief thing. 

“Well, has she arrived yet?’^ asked a cold^ though 
musical voice. 

He turned to see standing behind him the woman 
he had installed as mistress of the place. 

Hilda Corrode was superbly dressed in yellow satin 
and black lace, and looked very handsome in spite 
of the weary, discontented expression her features 
wore. 

She had obeyed Haynes’ instructions, and was 
ready to obey them still further, but there were mo- 
ments when she hated herself for doing so. Then, 


TWO WOMEN AND A MAN. 


135 


this life of gilded vice had become thoroughly dis- 
tasteful to her. 

She had longed for domestic peace and she had at- 
tained ^/l2S. 

“Has she arrived yet?” she repeated. 

“No, not yet, ” answered Haynes. “But it’s all 
right. She’s started. ” 

“I pray she may come soon, lest my resolution 
should fail. ” 

“Don’t be a fool!” said Haynes, sharply. “Virtu- 
ous airs don’t become yom ” 

Hilda’s nostrils quivered and her black eyes 
flashed. She might be his slave, but she hated him 
and was not afraid of hiin. 

“Always a sneer for a word of good, an honest 
thought,” she said, with bitter contempt, contempt 
for him, contempt for herself. “But I tell you that 
a very few years ago I was as innocent as the girl 
we are luring here to-night, and the thought of what 
I was then and am now racks my heart with re- 
morse.” 

“Bosh !” retorted Haynes, with a gesture of impa- 
tience. “In the morning she will become my 
wife. ” 

“Then let her pray for death, for her life will be 
a hell!” 

Haynes flushed angrily, but he kept his temper. 
This woman was useful to him. After her work was 
done, he would recall those words, and then she could 
starve for all he cared. His promises? With such a 
man as Rodney Haynes, promises went for nothing. 


XS6 


TWO WOMEN AND A MAN 


“You seem to forget the reward for your share of 
the work,” he said, insinuatingly. 

Instantly there was a change in Hilda^s manner. 

“No! no 1” she exclaimed, passionately. “Let me 
think only of that, and I shall be adamant. Money, 
my child, and the man I love.” 

“All shall be yours.” 

She looked at him as if she would read his very 
soul. 

“You swear it?” 

“On my word of honor.” 

Knowing Haynes as she did, the ghastly sarcasm of 
this declaration was only too apparent to her. 

“Honor!” she repeated, with a scornful curl of her 
too red lip. “Between us two honor is but an empty 
word.” 

Again the captain’s ire nearly got the better of 
him, but, before he could reply, there appeared a 
flunkey in a livery of scarlet; an appropriate color 
for the house. 

“A Miss Carruthers desires to see the mistress,” 
he said. 

Haynes’ anger vanished, to be replaced by a fiend- 
ish joy, the sort of delight that Satan must feel as 
he sees a soul gradually drifting within his power. 

“At last!” he exclaimed. “Admit her!” 

Then, turning to Hilda, he said rapidly and com- 
mandingly : 

“No faltering now! Go into the large supper 
room. We’ll let her get a taste of Helliwell Mansion 
before she sees us, ” 


TWO WOMEN AND A MAN. 


131 


He took the half hesitating woman by the arm 
and drew her away. 

When Queenie in her feverish anxiety, hurriedly 
entered the room, she found it deserted. Her disap- 
pointment was intense. The servant had told her 
that she would find the mistress of the house there. 
It seemed to her as if she could not wait another in- 
stant. Oh, why didn’t they take her to David? 
Where was he? Where was he? Perhaps calling her 
name in his agony, and she so near, yet could not 
find him ! 

A burst of laughter rang out from one of the 
rooms. 

Queenie started and listened. There must be a 
party going on. Perhaps she ought to have gone into 
that room. 

She approached the door, softly opened it, and 
stood transfixed at the sight that met her eyes. 

Gathered about a table, sparkling with glass and 
silver, was a party of six or eight, composed of both 
sexes. 

At the head of the table stood a young man with 
flushed face, and rather unsteady upon his legs. 

‘'Now, then,” he was saying, “let’s have another 
bottle of fizz. Maudie, my dear girl, you’re a brick.” 

“Of course lam,” answered a female voice, to the 
accompaniment of a boisterous laugh. “You all 
know that, don’t you, boys and girls?” 

Shocked and trembling with a vague fear, Queenie 
closed the door, without being observed by the 
revelers, and shrank back as if to avoid something 


IBS 


TWO WOMEN AND A MAN. 


which she felt was contamination, and yet did not 
exactly understand why. 

What strange people. In what kind of a place did 
she find herself? Her first impulse was to fly from the 
house. But no, David was there. That was the only 
thing that must be considered. She turned, intend- 
ing to ring for a servant, and saw standing near the 
entrance of one of the other rooms a striking vision 
in black and yellow. 

Ah ! at last ! This must be the mistress of the 
house. 

She raised her eyes to the face of the woman,’ and 
then in amazement she recognized her. With a glad 
cry, she started toward her, with outstretched hands. 

“Hilda Corrode! Is it possible? Thank Heaven, I 
have found a friend ! Dear, dear Hilda, how glad I 
am to see you. ” 

But Hilda, with a fierce look in her dark eyes, 
calmly placed her hands behind her back. The ap- 
pearance of this girl, who she had forced herself to 
believe had robbed her of her happiness, had roused 
in her all her worst passions. All softer emotions 
had fled. She thought now only of revenge. 

Queenie paused, pained and bewildered at this 
hostile rceeption. 

“How strangely you look at me!” she faltered. 
“Are we not friends?” 

“Friends with you!” replied Hilda, with concen- 
trated hatred. “At last I can meet you honestly, 
meet you without playing the hypocrite for the sake 
of a miserable pittance. Meet you and tell you I hate 


Tiro WOMEN AND A MAN 139 

you with an intensity so great that I could strike 
you where you stand !’^ 

And she partially raised one white arm as if to 
carry her threat into execution. 

Horrified, amazed, terrified, Queenie looked at her 
in a sort of fascination. 

“Don’t, don’t !” she stammered. “You frighten 
me. What have I ever done to you?” 

Hilda Corrode laughed, a harsh, repellant laugh, 
in which there was no trace of mirth. 

“You can ask me that? What have you done? 
Taken from me the man I love, a wrong that no 
woman ever forgot or forgave!” 

From behind the closed door of the room into 
which Queenie had glanced, now came the confused 
sound of a Bacchanalian chorus. 

Queenie was indistinctly conscious of it. But she 
gave it no thought. Her mind was occupied with 
only two things, to elucidate the mystery of Hilda’s 
words, and to find David. 

“The man you love!” she repeated. “There is 
some mistake, Hilda. I love no one but David En- 
gleheart. He is in this house, ill, perhaps dying. 
Ah! lake me to him, and I will forgive your wild 
words. ’ ’ 

Hilda smiled, and the smile struck a chill to the 
heart of the unhappy girl before her. 

“Poor simple dupe!” she sneered. “Look around 
you! Does this look like a hospital for the sick ? 
Listen ! Do you think those howling men and 
women care for the maimed and wounded?” 


140 


TWO WOMEN AND A MAN 


Qiieenie, pale as death, and with her beautiful eyes 
distended in horror, gasped out: 

“In Heaven’s name, tell me where I am 1” 

Hilda Corrode paused a moment before replying in 
order to give her words their full effect, and then 
she said, slowly and triumphantly: 

“In a house whose real life is when decent London 
sleeps.” 

Shivering from head to foot and with an inarticu- 
late murmur, Queenie covered her white face with 
her hands. 

She understood at last. David was not there. It 
was all a trick, of which she had been the easy vic- 
tim. 

Hilda, with folded arms, watched her, gloating 
over the misery of her successful rival. 

At last the hands fell, and Queenie, raising her 
head, drew herself up proudly. 

“Why have I been brought to a place like this?” 
she 'demanded. 

“That you shall be told by another, ” answered 
Hilda, shortly. “But understand that until daybreak 
you are a prisoner.” 

Until daybreak! A prisoner! Oh, no, that was 
too horrible! And Queenie, her very soul revolted, 
appealed for pity, for mercy, as a drowning man 
clutches at a straw. And the straw would be of quite 
as much service to the drowning man as Hilda Cor- 
rode would be at that supreme moment to Queenie 
Carruthers. 

“Hilda,” pleaded the distracted girl, battling for 
what she realized dimly was far more precious than 


TJFO WOMEN AND A MAN. 


141 


life. “Hilda, do you remember in our old circus 
days when you lay low with the fever, wlien no one 
would go near you but I, for all feared the fell dis- 
ease? I nursed you and loved you in your peril, ^nd 
brought you back to life. I now am in peril, in peril 
that passes deatli. Oh! help me! Friend to friend 
and woman to woman ! I kneel and beg yo^ to pity 
and save me !” 

She sank on her knees in an agony of supplication. 

Hilda Corrode hesitated, but only for an instant. 
Then the image of David Engleheart rose up before 
her, and her heart became as steel. She bent over 
the kneeling girl, and hissed into her ear: 

“Pity you, when my heart is torn with jealous 
rage! Save you, so that he can hold you in his arms! 
Won’t you see the passion that is consuming me? I 
love him, David Engleheart — do you hear? — love 
him with an intensity and strength that stifles, mad- 
dens me !” 

Queenie rose slowly to her feet. She understood 
how hopeless furttier supplication would be. Sweet 
and gentle as she was by nature, she was by no 
means devoid of spirit, nor was she a coward. She 
was no longer pale ; a bright spot glowed in each 
cheek, and in the beautiful eyes, which she fixed 
fearlessly upon the woman who was seeking to com- 
pass her ruin, there burned a clear, steady light. 

“Now I can guess your purpose,” she said, 
bravely, almost defiantly. “You think these gaudy 
surroundings, the companionship of those few, lost 
degraded creatures can corrupt my soul, and unfit me 
for an honest man’s wife. These may have tempted 


112 


TWO WOMEN AND A MAN 


you, Hilda Corrode, but, weak as you think me, 
you will find I am made of sterner stuff.” 

“You do not know what means ” 

‘.‘I care not for the means,” interrupted Queenie, 
strong now in her own purity. “I shall have the 
face of the man I love, the fear of God, before iny 
eyes, and these will sustain me!” 

“The days of miracles are past, my dear, ” retorted 
Hilda, contemptuously. “No one has ever left this 
house sinless. ” 

All Queenie’s womanhood was now up in arms. 
Who would have recognized the little White Queen 
in the superb creature who turned upon her tor- 
mentor, and spoke scathing words of denunciation ? 

“You threaten me with such a fate! Show some 
shame, woman ! Take off those clothes, cast away 
those jewels! You bear upon you the receipt of the 
loss of your soul 1” 

Trembling with rage, Hilda screamed: 

“You dare say this to me?” 

But Queenie never flinched. 

“I dare to tell you that to breathe the same air 
with you is poison,” she went on, dauntlessly, “to 
even hear your voice an outrage upon decency ! Nor 
am I so weak and frightened as you thought me ? 
Now do you think I shall readily fall into any of 
your infamous snares? Now, who quails most, you 
or I?” 

A mad woman in her fury at these taunts, Hilda 
caught up a heavy candlestick from a table which 
stood near her. 

But before she could carry out her purpose and 


TWO WOMEN AND A MAN 143 

launch the missile, a voice called out in stern com- 
mand : 

“Stop that!*’ 

Involuntarily, Hilda’s arm dropped to her side, 
and then, brought to her senses, she muttered sul- 
lenly : 

“Ivet her curb her tongue, then!” 

Queenie turned in the direction whence the voice 
proceeded, and, with a mixture of joy and fear recog- 
nized her cousin, Rodney Haynes. Was he to be her 
deliverer or her jailer? 

As soon as he saw that Hilda had obeyed and the 
threatened danger was over, Haynes turned, locked 
the door by which he had entered and put the key in 
his pocket. It was the door which led into the hall. 

Queenie came toward him, seeking to read his 
face. 

“Rodney,” she said, “3-011 cannot be in this infa- 
mous plot! You are my cousin, our parents were 
brother and sister, you hold the position of an offi- 
cer and a gentleman. In the name of the sovereign 
lady whose subjects you are paid to defend, I com- 
mand you to take me from this house.” 

Haynes looked at her a moment in silence, his eyes 
gloating over her presence there. Then he said, 
calmly : 

“Ves, I will do so. ” 

Queenie clasped her hands ecstatically, with an ex- 
clamation of joy and gratitude. 

But her happiness was destined to be shortlived. 

“In the morning,” added Haynes, just as quietly 
as ho had spoken before, 


144 


TWO WOMEN AND A MAN. 


A chuckling laugh of satisfaction broke from Hilda 
Corrode’s lips. 

Queenie turned and gazed at her fixedly. 

“Don’t laugh yet, Hilda!” she said, in low, clear 
tones. “Wait!” 

Hilda made no reply. There was something in the 
depths of those pure eyes that filled her with shame. 
But she thrust the feeling angrily from her. 

“Now, Rodney,” continued Queenie, “tell me 
what you mean. ” 

“I mean that here you will remain,” replied 
Haynes, promptly. “No harm will threaten you, but 
I shall take care that there are those outside who 
will see you go forth, and in their eyes and the eyes 
of all the world you will be dishonored.” 

“And what will the Noble Star of the Air say 
when we tell him how his White Queen has fallen?” 
mocked Hilda. 

Quick as a flash came the spirited answer: 

“He will call you a liar and knock that man 
down!” 

“He may do all that,” answered Hilda, “but will 
he be content to marry you?” 

“I think not,” put in Haynes, “and when you see 
the face of society turned against you, you will be 
only too thankful to accept the man you rejected so 
scornfully to-day.” 

Any plea for mercy would be worse than useless. 
It would be absurd. As well might a white dove 
caught in the talons of a hawk expect to be released. 

Queenie, with sinking heart, fully realized this, 
and a wild, mad desire for escape took possession of 


TTFO fVOMFJV AND A MAN. 


145 


her. Like a lapwing she flew toward the door, which 
had fnrnislied her entrance to this horrible place. 
But it resisted all her efforts. 

“Locked, my dear,” laughed Haynes, “and here 
is the key !” 

Queenie rushed to another door, but the loud voices 
and ribald laughter drove her back from this. 

“Yes, go there, do,” said Haynes. “You might 
make some nice acquaintances.” 

Queenie paid no attention. It is doubtful if she 
heard liim. Her sole thought was to be free from 
their hateful presence. 

She tried another door. It yielded to her touch. 

“That’s open,” said Haynes, grinning. “You can 
go in there, for beyond the room there is no outlet.” 

Queenie turned upon the threshold. 

“I thank you,” she said, simply. “I shall at least 
be alone, and will pray to one who surely hears you 
now, and is ever ready to protect the innocent from 
the snares of the guilty.” 

She disappeared, closing the door behind her, and 
the room which had been purified by her presence, 
returned to its former aspect of glittering sin. 

Rodney advanced and locked the door, exclaiming 
as he did so in vindictive triumph : 

“And there you will remain, my fair cousin, a 
prisoner !” 


146 


IN THE TOILS. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

IN THE TOILS. 

“Hush! what’s that?” 

It was just after Queeiiie had been made a captive, 
and it was Hilda Corrode’s voice that uttered the 
words. 

The cause of her exclamation was a loud knocking 
upon the hall door. 

Haynes hesitated a moment, and then tossed her 
the key. * 

“Open it!” he said, briefly. 

Hilda obeyed, and a man, with a smooth face and 
a sharp nose, entered precipitately. 

“Mark Blackwood!” exclaimed Haynes and Hilda 
simultaneously, • both scenting danger from this 
man’s appearance. 

“Haven’t a minute to spare,” panted Mark, hur- 
riedly. ‘ ‘That chap, her sweetheart, has found it all 
out. ” 

This was indeed serious news^ news that might 
cause the undoing of all those well laid, and, up to 
this point successful, plans. 

“How?” demanded Haynes, shortly. 

“She dropped the letter,” replied Mark, in the 
same jerky way. “He’s on his way here now. I 
rushed up to warn you in time,” 

“Is he alone?” 


IN THE TOILS. 


147 


‘‘I think so. Can’t stop, or I shall be missed at the 
hotel. But for all our sakes, be careful.” 

And he vanished as rapidly as he had come. 

The two conspirators looked at each other for a 
moment in dumb consternation. 

Then Haynes asked lamely: 

“What’s to be done now?” 

Hilda did not immediately reply. She was reflect- 
ing. But woman’s wits are proverbially quicker than 
man’s, and this is especially so in times of danger, 
that is, if the woman is possessed of any wits at all ; 
and Hilda Corrode, whatever her failings might be, 
was certainly not destitute of brains. 

Finally she said abruptly: 

“What’s to be done? Bring matters to a crisis.” 

“But how?” asked Haynes, in a puzzled way. 

“She is there safe. Come to my room. I will give 
you a drug to silence her. Get those drunken idiots 
out of that room, and we’ll arrange a pretty little 
tableau for Mr. Engleheart’s benefit. Come, quick, 
or it will be too late. ” 

Scarcely weie they gone, when the door of one of 
the supper rooms was opened, and a head was cau- 
tiously thrust in, soon followed by the whole body. 

The new-comer was a young man,\vith a blonde 
mustache and long side whiskers, and dressed in the 
height of fashion. 

He had been eavesdropping for the last quarter of 
an hour, and that without a qualm of conscience. 
Indeed, there were far worse things than listening at 
key-holes that Sammy Blythe would hatve indulged 


148 


IN THE TOILS. 


in, if, by so doing, he could succeed in the scheme he 
had entered upon. 

For the fashionable young man was no more nor 
less than the redoubtable Sammy. 

After leaving the Burlington, he had hastened to a 
costumer’s with whom he had had dealings when he 
was a clerk in he city and used to indulge in private 
theatricals. He explained what he wanted and was 
soon turned out as a full-fledged swell. ,A very cred- 
itable make-up it was, too. 

He then took a cab and drove to the Helliwell 
Mansion. His object, of course, was to obtain an en- 
trance. Fortunately, he had quite a considerable 
sum of money about him, what he had saved in view 
of his possible marriage to Carrie. But it is credita- 
ble to Sammy’s heart that he did not think of himself 
or his future now, but only of what he could do to 
save Queenie, and he was ready to spend every cent, 
if necessary, in that effort. 

It was one of the rules of Helliwell Mansion that 
no one should be admitted without an introduction, 
but Sammy managed to effect an entrance by means 
of a liberal tip to the flunky at the door, who was 
moreover considerably impressed by his aristocratic 
appearance. 

Once inside, it was easy to go into one of the sup- 
per rooms and order a bottle of champagne. Then, 
as has been told before, he listened and certainly 
overheard what was of much value. 

As soon as he entered the reception loom, he called 
softly: ‘ Queenie!” and then as loudly as he dared: 
“Queenie! Queenie!” 


IN THE TOILS. 


149 


The second time Queenie heard him, and recog- 
nized his voice with a rush of thankfulness that her 
prayer had been answered and a friend had been sent 
to her. She came closer to the door, and called : 

“Dear old Sammy, help me!” 

Sammy ran toward the room whence her voice 
proceeded, and putting his mouth close to the jam, 
replied : 

“Of course I’ll help you. I’ve only got a second. 
They’ll be back directly.” 

“What am I to do?” asked Queenie, breathlessly. 

“He’ll let you out. When he comes near you pre- 
tend to faint, and leave the rest to me. Hush I 
Somebody’s coming.” 

Sammy started from the door and glanced quickly 
around to see where he could hide. There was a 
large sofa in the room, and this seemed to offer the 
best shelter. In the twinkling of an eye he was safely 
ensconsced behind it, lying flat upon his face. 

He was not a moment too soon ; for, scarcely was 
he hidden than Rodney Haynes entered the room, 
carrying in his hand a small bottle and a handker- 
chief. 

There was a look of anticipated triumph on his 
handsome though vicious face, for he was thinking 
to himself that if the girl he coveted (or rather 
whose fortune he coveted) should still continue ob- 
durate, the articles he bore would do the trick. 

He unlocked the door of the room where Queenie 
was, and said : 

“You can come out. ” 

Queenie slowly emerged. 


150 


IN THE TOILS 


Clever though she was in her own particular line 
as a public performer, she was not a very good 
actress, and she could not conceal, even in that criti- 
cal moment, the scorn she felt for the scoundrel 
before her. 

“I am going to give you one more chance,” 
began Rodney. “Consent to become my wife and 
you are free.” 

In his power though she was, she upreared her 
shapely head and answered haughtily: 

“As I told you when safe in my own home, I tell 
you now: I will die first!” 

Rodney Haynes was not alw’ays able to control 
his temper, and this was one of the times he failed. 
With an exclamation of rage, he caught her roughly 
by the wrist. 

Then Queenie remembered the injunction that 
had been given her. 

“Don’t, Rodney, don’t! You frighten me!” she 
murmured, staggering as if about to fall. 

Haynes threw his arm about her waist, a touch 
which was hideous to her, but which, under the cir- 
cumstances, she was forced to submit to. She 
attempted to render herself as limp and lifeless as 
possible. The simulation at all events deceived the 
man it was intended to deceive, and her cousin, be- 
lieving that she had fainted, laid her down upon the 
sofa. 

This turn in affairs was not altogether distasteful 
to Rodney Haynes, for it gave him the opportunity 
he desired. Now was his time, he thought. A few 


IN THE TOILS. 


151 


drops oil the handkerchief, and she would be quiet 
until morning. 

He raised the square of linen, and poured upon it 
a portion of the contents of the bottle. 

Then he bent over Queenie. 

But, as he did so, Sammy rose suddenly from be- 
hind the conch and dashed both bottle and handker- 
chief from his hand. 

Taken though he was by surprise, Haynes grap- 
pled at once with his unknown assailant. The cap- 
tain was a powerful man and he would probably 
have made short work of his antagonist, had it not 
been for Queenie’s presence of mind. 

Although disguised, she knew it must be Sammy. 
She bounded from the couch, and, snatching up the 
handkerchief, she darted behind Haynes, and pressed 
it closely over his nose and mouth. It was in vain 
for him to struggle ; the fumes of the drug gradually 
overpowered him, and Sammy managed to pinion 
his arms so that he could not tear away the handker- 
chief. 

In a very few moments, Rodney Haynes, hoist with 
his own petard, fell heavily to the ground, power- 
less, inert, unconscious. 

“Oh, Sammy,” exclaimed Queenie, frightened 
at the results of her own action, “will it kill him?” 

“Not it !” laughed Sammy, delightedly. “It isn’t 
rat poison. ” 

As he spoke he stooped, and picked up a pocket 
book which in the struggle had fallen from one of 
Haynes’ pockets. 


IN THE TOILS. 


152 

“Pll collar this,” he thought to himself. “It may 
prove useful.” 

In accordance with this idea, bestowed it carefully 
away, and then said to Queeiiie, who was still 
gazing, half alarmed, at Haynes’ pale, quiet face: 

“Now, then, give us a hand, Queenie. ” 

Between them, they managed to drag the uncon- 
scious form behind the sofa. 

Then Sammy went to the hall door, but only to 
turn back quickly. 

“Here’s Hilda Corrode coming!” he said, rapidly. 
“Back to that room there, and don’t come out until 
somebody calls you. ” 

Queenie obeyed, and Sammy himself returned to 
his neglected bottle of champagne, being careful, 
however, to leave the door ajar so that he could hear 
all that might go on. 

When Hilda entered the room, she detected at once 
the strong odor of the drug, and naturally concluded 
that her partner in crime had been successful in the 
plan of which she had been the prime mover. 

But where was he? Where was the unconscious 
form of their victim ? 

She was about to make a search, when she paused 
in consternation. A voice she knew well rose in loud 
and angry command from the hall. 

“Stand back, I say 1 By the Heaven that made me 
I’ll lay low the first man that bars my way. 

In another moment, David Engleheart appeared 
before her, while two or three frightened flunkioe 
peered round the corners of the hall door. 

“Hilda Corrode, where is my promised wife?” 


IN THE TOILS, 


153 


“She is TiOt here,” answered Hilda, boldly, 
although she felt herself quivering from head to 
foot. 

But riavid Engleheart was in no mood to be trifled 
with. 

“Don’t stand there and perjure yourself!” he cried, 
sternly. “I have traced her here, and if you have 
harmed one hair of her head, let all beneath this 
roof tremble 1” 

Strange to say, in spite of his words, the very 
sound of this man’s voice served only to bring all 
Hilda’s love for him to the front. She forgot all 
else, and in the strength of her passion, which 
blinded her to realities, fatuously hoped that even 
now she might win him to her side. 

“Have I not the right to hate her?” she said, 
softly and pleadingly. “Has she not taken your 
heart from me? Oh, David, look at me! Am I not 
as fair as she? Can you not give me one word of 
love?” 

But, with a look of loathing upon his face, David 
Engleheart drew back, as if a venomous reptile was 
about to approach him. 

“Stand back!” he commanded. “The very touch 
of such a woman as you is an insult to an honest 
man !” 

This was unmistakable. And even the infatuated 
wojuan, blinded though she was, could not fail to 
understand it. 

“Beware!” she cried, wildly. “A woman scorned 
can turn and rend !” 


154 


IN THE TOILS 


David’s lip curled in contempt and derision. 

“I fear neither 5 011 nor any here. Again I demand 
the girl you are hiding from me.” 

Hilda Corrode was bought to bay. But under the 
circumstances, she was not entirely sorry for it. If 
Rodney Haynes had only arranged his part in the lit- 
tle comedy they were about to play, she would wring 
the heart of this man who had flung aside her prof- 
fered love even as he had wrung hers. 

“Well, then, ” she acknowledged, with a toss of 
her head, “she is here.” 

A cry broke from David’s lips, a cry in which joy 
and anguish were mingled. 

“But she is worthless, ” continued Hilda, “and 
remains here of her own free will.” 

It required all of David’s self-control to prevent 
him from forgetting her sex and from chastising as 
she deserved the person who gave utterance to these 
lying words. 

“It is false!” he cried, furiously. “She is de- 
tained here by force, and I will call on all the sleep- 
ing city to aid my search if you do not instantly re- 
store her to me !” 

Meanwhile, the noise of the altercation had 
reached the ears of the revelers and gamblers, and 
from two or three of the rooms they came pouring 
into the reception room, a motley crowd of men and 
women more or less intoxicated. 

Sammy Blythe, thinking it time to put in an ap- 
pearance, also emerged from his hiding-place. 


IN THE TOILS. 


155 


David turned impetuously toward the confused 
rows of surprised faces. 

“Even beneath this roof,” he exclaimed, in ring- 
ing tones, which pierced to the brain of even the 
most besotted of them all, “there must still be a lit- 
tle honesty left. Hear me, all of yon ! A decent and 
innocent girl has been heartlessly decoyed to this 
place to-night. In the name of the mothers and sis- 
ters who once must have loved you, I ask you to tell 
me where she is. ” 

He ceased, but there was no response, for no one 
among them knew aught of this girl he spoke of. 
His words, however, had had their effect. Several of 
the men looked, as they felt, ashamed of them- 
selves, and more than one of the women was in 
tears. * 

Then Sammy Blythe called aloud, at the top of 
his voice : 

“Queenie! Queenie!” 

And Queenie, like a dove trooping among crows, 
came forth. 

“David,” she said, going to him, “I am here!” 

With a rapturous cry, David caught her to his 
breast. 

Furious at being thus foiled, Hilda screamed. 

“.Seize her! Stop them!” 

“Let him lay a finger on me who dares!” cried 
David, threateningly. 

And no one of them dared, or, rather perhaps to 
do them justice, not one of them cared to. 

Unmolested by all, David bore his recovered sweet- 
heart from the room. 


m 


IN THE TOILS, 


Saniiny Blythe followed swaggeringly behind. 

In a few moments, the fetid, unhealthy atmos- 
phere of Helliwell Mansion was left behind, and the 
sweet, fresh air of the night was blowing upon their 
faces. 

The dove had escaped the snares of the fowler. 


A OF SUNSHINE, 


157 


CHAPTER XV. 

A MORNING OF SUNSHINE. 

Three days have passed since Queenie’s rescue 
from the horrors of Helliwell Mansion, and in the 
peace and happiness by which she is now surrounded, 
it seems difficult for her to believe that the events 
of that night were anything more than a ghastly 
dream. 

The next morning, accompanied by Mrs. Jones 
and Carrie, whose joy at the recovery of the girl 
they so dearly loved was boundless, Queenie left the 
Burlington, and with all precautions that her des- 
tination should not be discovered, went to take up 
her residence in a furnished house which Mr. Fuller 
had procured for her. 

This was a villa in St. John’s Wood and a remark- 
ably pretty place, too. 

The house itself was comfortable and commodious, 
though only two stories high, and had quite an ex- 
tensive garden stretching at one side of it, the whole 
surrounded by a high, brick wall. 

The morning on which we first make acquaintance 
with it was a beautiful one, bright and sunshiny, 
and quite warm enough to admit of one’s sitting out 
of doors. 

Certainly Mrs. Jones, who was dozing over her 


A MORNING OF SUNSHINE. 


l&S 

knitting in a big armchair on tlie porch, found it 
delightful. 

A dispatch from Signor Jonesio that very morning 
had stated that he had reconsidered his idea of giving 
a supplemental season and had decided to close the 
show until the following spring. This was good 
news to them all, for David and Sammy were not 
obliged to leave their sweethearts, and it gave 
Queenie an opportunity to insist that her foster 
mother and sister should remain with her during the 
winter. Mrs. Jones, who was an independent lady, 
was at first inclined to demur to this, but, when it 
was pointed out to her that Queenie could not live 
alone, and that she was conferring a favor rather 
than accepting one, she consented. 

“Where’s Queenie, mother?” 

Mrs. Jones started into full wakefulness to see 
Carrie standing in the doorway. 

“Walking in the garden with David. Ah !” with 
a sigh of satisfaction, “seeing them together, one 
can quite believe in the old saying: Marriages are 
made in Heaven. ” 

“Ah, she’s lucky, she is,” said Carrie, a bit 
enviously. 

Mrs. Jones looked up in surprise and reproach. 
Ever since Sammy had so distinguished himself in 
aiding to save Queenie the motherly old lady had 
lowered her colors, taken him without reserve to 
her heart, and was now one of his staunchest cham- 
pions. 

“Well!” she said, emphatically. “And ain’t you? 


A MORNING OF SUNSHINE. 


159 


Sammy isn’t a beauty certainly, but he’s a good, 
honest little chap and as brave as a lion.” 

“Oh, I know that he behaved like a hero th« 
-other night, but — but ” 

“Well, but what?” 

Carrie sniffed suspiciously. 

“I’d like to ask him a question or two when I get 
a chance.” 

Just then the door in the garden wall opened, and 
the young man they were speaking of came briskly 
up the path. 

“Well, now you’ll have it,” said Mrs. Jones, as 
she recognized him. 

“Good-morning, Mrs. J.” called out Sammy 
blithely. “Carrie, embrace your honeyboy. ” 

“Not I,” replied that perverse young lady, curtly 
turning her back. 

“Oh! Sorry I don’t suit!” returned Sammy, 
calmly. He was beginning to become accustomed 
to her various moods, and they did not trouble him 
as they once did. 

“I see you two are going to have a tiff,” said Mrs. 
Jones rising heavily. “Fight it out, dears, and I’ll 
go to Queenie in the garden.” 

She waddled calmly away, leaving the two young 
people to their own devices. But it did not prove 
much of a tiff after all. The fact was, Carrie was 
jealous, and she insisted upon a full and true account 
of his doings at Helliwell Mansion on that eventful 
night. But when Sammy had solemnly sworn that 
he had not spoken to a single member of the female 


160 


A MOBNING OF SUNSHINE. 


persuasion except Queenie, she was finally satisfied 
and took him back into her good graces. 

“And now, Carrie,” said Sammy, after peace had 
been made, “I’m going to tell you a secret.” 

“A secret!” womanlike all attention. “Oh, how 
delightful !” 

“Yes, it’s about a pocketbook.” 

“What pocketbook?” 

“A pocketbook the captain dropped in our strug- 
gle the other night.” 

“Oh, Sammy I Let me look 1 Do let me look 1” 

“Of course,” said Sammy, tantalizingly. 
“Woman’s curiosity as usual. Remember the fate 
of Bluebeard’s wife and beware!” 

But the fate of Bluebeard’s wife, or any other 
female, had no terrors for Carrie. There was a 
secret, and she was determined to know it. 

“Sammy!” she almost shrieked. “If you don’t 
make haste I shall go off with a bang.” 

But for once in his life Sammy had the advantage. 
He knew it and was resolved to make the most of it. 

“One moment!” he said, coolly. “You really love 
me. ” 

“Yes, yes,” she assented, but with very little 
affection in her tone. 

“And you promise faithfully to marry me?” 

“Yes, yes, anything! But do let me look at the 
pocketbook. ” 

“Well,” with the most provoking slowness, “I 
haven’t got it with me.” 

Carrie turned scarlet with disappointment and 


A MORNING OF SUNSHINE. 161 

anger. It would have done her heart good to box 
his ears. 

“Oh!” she burst out. “You deceitful, hateful, 
abandoned, ugly, little wretch!” 

“Sorry I don’t suit,” returned Sammy, with a 
grin. 

And then, thinking he had gone as far as it was 
wise to go, he relented. “Never mind, Carrie, I was 
only joking. Here it is. ” 

And with that he produced the pocketbook. 

All excitement, Carrie dragged him down beside 
her upon the step of the porch, and together they 
proceeded to open the pocketbook and examine its 
contents. They had no thought whatever as to 
whether they had a right to meddle with another 
person’s property, and, if they had had, considering 
who that other person was, it would not have mat- 
tered to them in the least. 

The contents on the whole proved absorbingly 
interesting. There were betting papers, I. O. U. ’s, 
unpaid bills and a letter from one of the most 
notorious counterfeiters' in London. 

“By Jove!” exclaimed Sammy, as they came 
across this last, “ the captain will swear when he 
finds he has lost this. On the very face of this letter, 
he’d get ten years.” 

Then followed* the most exciting find of all. A 
letter from Hilda Corrode pleading for the return of 
her child, and several receipts for money paid out 
for the keep of this child, with an address at the 
head of the receipts. 

Sammy and Carrie looked at each other. 


1S2 


A MORNINa OF SUNSHINE. 


“Then there is a guiltier tie between those two 
than any of us thought,” said Carrie, vejy seriously. 

“He ought to be wiped out!” returned Sammy, 
viciously. “Here, Carrie,” handing her the pocket- 
book, “put them away. They’ll come useful yet.” 

Carrie accepted the trust, and carefully stowed 
away the documents with their receptacle in the 
bosom of her dress. 

As she finished doing so, a dignified voice saluted 
them. 

“Good-morning, young people. Is Miss CarYuthers 
in?” 

“Good-morning, Mr. Fuller, ” replied Carrie, 
rising. “Yes, Queenie’s in the garden. I’ll call 
her.” 

And she suited the action to the word. 

“Young man,” said the lawyer, tapping Sammy 
familiarly on the shoulder, “do you know anything 
about the law ?” 

Sammy looked up at him in surprise. 

“Why, sir, I was once fined five bob for being a 
teetotaler,” he replied, facetiously. 

Mr. Fuller laughed. 

“Because by the clever way you went to work the 
other night, you’re too artful for a circus performer. 
You ought to have been a lawyer.” 

Sammy thought he saw a chance and was about 
to ask Mr. Fuller if he would not give him an oppor- 
tunity. But unfortunately for his aspirations, Carrie 
reappeared, followed by her mother, David and 
Queenie. 

The latter came forward with both hands held out. 


A MORNING OF SUNSHINE. 


160 

“Dear Mr. Fuller!”’ she exclaimed, cordially. 
“How glad I am to see you!” 

“And, I you, my dear,’” returned the lawyer, 
kissing her in a fatherly fashion upon the forehead. 
“To see you safe and unharmed from the deadly 
peril with which you were threatened.” This was 
Mr. Fuller’s first visit to the villa. “Your hand, 
sir, ” turning to David. “You played a noble part 
that night.” 

David’s manly face became suffused with blushes. 

“I played but a man’s part, sir,” he said, mod- 
estly, “in protecting the woman I love.” 

Mr. Fuller nodded his gray head once or twice in 
a reflective sort of way, and then he said, abruptly : 

“I believe I have been in the wrong about you in 
not thinking you worthy of her. At any rate, Mr. 
Engleheart, call at my office to-morrow morning and 
we’ll have a long chat. Maybe a certain self-willed, 
obstinate young woman,” with a smiling glance at 
Queenie, “will not have to wait for the man of her 
choice so long as she thought.” 

“My dear guardian!” exclaimed Queenie, her face 
like a rose. 

“Tut! tut!” said Mr. Fuller, although he was 
smiling all the time. “No more sentiment! I’m here 
on business. ” 

Then, motioning the rest to be seated and taking . 
a chair himself, he continued with considerable 
gravity : 

“My dear child, you may not know that not the 
least part of the fortune bequeathed you consists of a 
remarkably large and unique collection of jewels. 


164 A MORNING OF SUNSHINE. 

As you are now about to luake your debut into 
society, it is only right that they should be iii your 
possession. I have therefore instructed the author- 
ities at the bank where they have been deposited to 
deliver them to you here some time to-day.” 

“Say, Queenie,” ventured the irrepressible Sam- 
my, “do you want a light porter?” 

Mr. Fuller frowned at him. It was altogether too 
serious a matter with him to admit of jesting. 

“There’s no fear of that,” he said, severely. 
“They are too valuable to be entrusted, to any but 
the officials of the bank. ” 

“Why, what are they, Mr. Fuller?” asked 
Queenie, with mild curiosit}^ 

“They consist of the finest rubies, emeralds and 
pearls, and, with the famous Carruthers diamonds, 
are valued at thirty thousand pounds.” 

The mention of this large sum was too much for 
Mrs. Jones. She sank back in her chair with an 
awed exclamation of : 

“Great heavens!” 

Her emotion was shared in a lesser degree by 
Sammy and Carrie. 

David alone looked grave, almost sad. 

“Oh, David,” exclaimed Queenie, “fanfy poor 
little me weighed down by all this splendor!” 

“They will not be noticed, dear,” returned David, 
quietly. “Your eyes will outshine them all.” 

“And now,” said Mr. Fuller, rising, “I must 
leave you for a while, but I will return later in the 
day to see that the jewel case has been safely 
delivered.” 


A MORNING OF SUNSHINE. 165 

As the lawyer’s footsteps sounded down the 
path, Mrs. Jones began to. recover from the commo- 
tion into which she had been thrown. 

“Oh, my dear child,” she said, with an unctuous 
sigh, “it reminds me of the time when 1 rode bare- 
backed before the Prince of Wales.” 

Sammy leaned toward her. 

“Say, Mrs. Jones,” he whispered, “did you really 
do that?” 

“Yes, I did,” she answered, proudly, “and I have 
the programme to prove it.” 

“What, bare-backed,” in a tone of admiration. 

“Yes, Mr. Imperence, bare-backed.” 

“Then you must have been bare-faced to do it.” 

And Sammy, amused at his own wit, and yet a 
little afraid of the consequences, ran away into the 
garden, followed by Carrie. 

Mrs. Jones, scarlet with indignation, tose to her 
feet and started heavily after them, calling out 
angrily : 

“And you think you’re going to marry my 
daughter! You, Carrie, leave that young monkey, 
leave him I say!” 

Her voice died away. David and Queenie were 
left alone. The sunshine lay warm about them, and 
the only sound was the humming of the bees amidst 
the late flowers. 

“How silent you are, David mine,” said Queenie, 
slipping one little white hand into his. 

David sighed deeply. 

“It is my pride, Queenie, battling with my love. 
My manhood would bid me go right away and try to 


1(;6 A MORNING OF STJNSIJINF. 

forget you, but iiiy love Iiolds ine a prisoner to 
your side. ” 

“Love must conquer always, David,” replied 
Queenie, with a confident smile. “Stifle this false 
pride and hand in hand we will try to make our 
little part of the world brighter and happier. You 
shall help me to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, 
comfort the sick and afflicted, so that at the end of 
life’s fitful journey we may show ourselves worthy 
of the trust God has placed in us.” 

“But the world will call me a fortune hunter.” 

At the same, however, his arm stole about her 
slender waist, and Queenie’s golden head sank con- 
tentedly upon his shoulder. 

“Our world shall be in our own hearts,” she 
murmured, softly, “and love shall be the only 
ruler !” 


GO AND SIN NO MORE:* 


167 


CHAPTER XVL 
‘‘go and sin no more.’’ 

“Inform your mistress that a lady wishes to see 
her. Never mind the name.” 

The trim maid bowed and retired. 

The time was the afternoon of the same day, the 
scene Qneenie’s pretty drawing room, and the 
speaker Hilda Corrode. 

Hilda had come on a desperate mission and no one 
knew it better than herself. But still the reward was 
great. Her object was the recovery of the pocket- 
book, and Haynes had promised her if she succeeded 
that her child should be restored to her. The one 
pure, unselfish affection of Hilda’s life was her love 
for her little girl, and she would have risked much 
more than this to regain possession of her. 

Helliwell Mansion was no longer open to the 
public. Haynes, after what had happened, concluded 
that it would be no longer safe to continue business 
there, and the house was apparently deserted. But 
the captain was still in hiding there, knowing full 
well that if he should be sought for by the police, 
there was a sure means of escape. 

It enraged Hilda when she thought what Haynes 
with all his cleverly-laid schemes, had brought her 
to. He had given the game away, sold them both 
by means of a miserable pocketbook into the hands 


168 


GO AND SIN NO 3I0RE: 


of their enemies. At first she despaired of recovering 
that damaging piece of evidence. For there was no 
trace of where Queenie and her friends had gone. 
By a mere stroke of luck, however, she had caught 
sight of Mr. Fuller in the street, jumped into a 
hansom, and tracked him to the villa in St. John’s 
Wood. 

And now she was here to see what she could do. 
Even if she did not succeed, it was something to 
know Queenie’s abode. 

She longed to pay the girl back, as she expressed 
it to herself, to see her humbled to the dust. 

But that was not the thing to be thought of now. 
Her role at present was to be humble and submissive. 
If she played her cards well, she felt sure she would 
win in the end. 

Queenie entered the room with a slight look of 
wonder in her blue eyes. She could not imagine 
who this lady to see her might be. 

‘H beg your pardon, madam,” she began. And 
then, recognizing her visitor, she stopped short and 
drew herself up proudly. “You here!” 

“Yes, Queenie,” said Hilda, endeavoring to ap- 
pear friendly and remorseful. At the same time she 
held out her hand. 

But Queenie, with the same gesture that Hilda 
had used at Helliwell Mansion, put hers behind her 
back. 

“Don’t bear malice, Queenie,” said Hilda, with 
an admirable assumption of gentle pleading, although 
her breast was filled with rage. 


AND SIN NO MOUEN 169 

‘‘Miss Cariiitliers,” corrected Queenie, with 
dignity. 

“I beg your pardon,” said Hilda, humbly. “I 
ought to have remembered that I have lost all right 
to use the old familiar name.” 

“Why are you here?” demanded Queenie, shortly. 

“I have come in all humility to plead to you, to 
beg ” 

“One moment,” interrupted Queenie. 

Then, going to the door she called : 

“Carrie!” 

“Yes, dear,” replied Carrie’s voice outside. 

“Come here a moment.” 

“What is it, Queenie?” asked Carrie as she 
entered the room. 

Then her eyes rested upon Hilda, and she started 
forward, her pretty face convulsed with anger. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, fiercely. 

“I wish to see Miss Carruthers alone,” replied 
Hilda, coldly, although her eyes returned fully the 
hatred which flashed from Carrie’s. There was no 
need for her to play the hypocrite with that girl, at 
all events. 

“And I refuse to be left alone with you for a 
single moment,” replied Queenie, with decision. 
“Once bit, twice shy, Hilda Corrode!” 

“Quite right, dear,” exclaimed Carrie, approv- 
ingly, “and if she tries the drugged handkerchief 
dodge on you again,” with a meaning look at Hilda, 
“you shout fire and I’ll scream murder!” Queenie 
quietly motioned her to say no more, and then look- 
ing Hilda full in the eyes she said, icily; 


170 


AND SIN NO MOHEN 

“Explain your errand in as few words as possible, 
please.’’ 

Hilda had conned her part beforehand, and she 
repeated in a rather parrot-like way : 

“Haynes has wronged me greatly in the past, but 
profiting by the lesson taught him the other night, 
he sees that all hope of securing you and your for- 
tune has gone, so in the end turns to me and in 
another land has promised to retrieve his good name 
and make me his wife. ” 

“Make you his wife!” repeated Carrie, with a 
short, scornful laugh. “Well, he must be hard up.” 

The color rose in Hilda’s face, but, paying no 
attention to this unflattering remark, she continued, 
still addressing Queenie : 

“But there are conditions.” 

“Now we come to it!” burst out Carrie, who, in 
spite of Queenie’s warning glance, simply could not 
refrain from expressing her opinions and criticisms. 

“When Haynes was drugged,” proceeded Hilda, 
still systematically ignoring Carrie, “a pocketbook 
was either taken from or slipped out of his pocket.” 

Queenie knew this, for Carrie at the first oppor- 
tunity had imparted to her all the particulars of 
Sammy’s find. 

“Yes, that is so,” she agreed. 

“The pocketook apd its contents are not of the 
slightest value, but ” 

This statement, with the knowledge she possessed, 
was too much for fiery Carrie, and she exploded. 

“That isn’t so, Hilda Corrode. There’s enough in 


‘‘GO AND SIN NO MORE. 


Ill 


that precious dociiiiient to get your beautiful hus- 
band-elect ten years hard.” 

Then at last Hilda deigned to notice her. 

“How do you know that?” she asked, sharply. 

Carrie smiled derisively. 

“Because I’ve examined all the tasty little docu- 
ments contained therein, and at the present moment 
it is reposing in a safe place.” 

Hilda had turned pale beneath her rouge. 

“But you will give it back to me?” she said, with 
a tremble in her voice which was genuine. 

“No,” answered Qneenie, resolutely. “I shall 
keep it as a guarantee for my safety. If Rodney 
Haynes attempts to molest me again, the contents of 
that pocketbook will be placed immediately in the 
hands of the police.” 

Hilda was silent. She saw the hope she had 
cherished fading mistily away. But still she would 
make one more plea. 

“I had hoped,” she said at last, slowly and im- 
pressively, “that you would have spared me this last 
humiliating confession of my weakness and sin. 
There — there is a child, my little^ Leila, the only 
being on earth who loves me, the only one who 
believes me pure and worthy as other women who 
are mothers. ” 

The woman was not acting now. The great 
mother love, and there is no other love on earth like 
it, had welled up in her heart, making her sincere 
and true. No one who heard her then could have 
failed to believe her. 


172 


‘^GO AND SIN NO MORE.” 


It is little wonder, therefore, that Queenie’s tender 
and synipathetic heart was touched. 

“Oh, Carrie!” sh'e breathed, pitifully. 

“Hush!” inurinured Carrie, all her vindictiveness 
vanished, for, as we know, she was a good little 
creature at heart. “Listen a inouient. ” 

The tears and rare enough they had been for some 
time past, were starting in Hilda’s eyes, and her 
whole frame was trembling with emotion, good, 
true, honest emotion, emotion that few men or 
women could have helped respecting and sympa- 
thizing with. 

When she spoke again it was with manifest 
difficulty. 

“For some time past he has been cruel enough to 
conceal from me where the child is hidden ; but has 
now sworn an oath that if I regain the pocketbook 
my Leila shall be restored to me. I do not plead for 
myself alone now, but for my little one. She may 
be with people who neglect, illtreat her ; she may be 
calling on her mother in helpless grief, and I am 
powerless to aid her. I ” 

But she could continue no further. The picture 
conjured up by her own words had overpowered her. 
She broke down and covered her face with her 
hands. 

There were tears, too, in both of her auditors’ 
eyes. 

Carrie was quite vanquished. 

“Queenie,” she whispered. “The address where 
the child is kept is in that pocketbook. It is only a 
street or two away. Shall we ” 


173 


AND SIN NO MORDI* 

“Hush!” interrupted Oueenie, whose mind was 
already made up. 

Then she turned slowly to the unhappy mother. 

“Stay here, Hilda,” she said, far more gently 
than she had spoken hitherto. “We will return in a 
few minutes. ” 

Hilda’s hands fell. There was a wild eagerness in 
her eyes as she cried : 

“Ah, you have repented! You will give it back?” 

“No,” answered Queenie, firmly. “The pocket- 
book I shall keep. As for yourself, I say again, 
wait, and perhaps more mercy may be shown to you 
than you have shown to others.” 

She took Carrie’s hand, and together the two girls 
left the room. 

As she followed them with her eyes, all tender- 
ness, all softness vanished from Hilda Corrode’s face, 
to be replaced by a wolfish ferocity. She did not 
understand. How could she have done so? She 
believed that this girl who had stood between her 
and the man she loved was now to part her from her 
child. Well, she thought savagely, every dog has 
his day, and hers would come yet. Queenie Car- 
riithers might be in her power again, and the next 
time she would stake her soul that she should not 
escape so easily. 

These cruel resolves were interrupted by a knock 
at the door 

“Come in,” she called, composing her face. 

A man appeared in a dark-blue uniform. Beneath 
his arm, he carried a leather case. He had a pleas- 


174 


AND SIN NO MORE. 


ant, honest face, but not one tliat was instinct with 
a large amount of intelligence. 

He removed his cap, and said respectfully : 

“I have brought your jewels from the bank. Miss 
Carruthers. ” 

“Jewels,” repeated Hilda, mechanically. 

“I’m not sorry to finish my errand, ” continued 
the messenger, with a nervous little laugh. “One 
feels rather uneasy with thirty thousand pounds 
about him.” 

“Thirty thousand pounds!” Hilda breathed rather 
than spoke the words. 

The messenger looked at her admiringly. He 
thought she was one of the most beautiful women he 
had ever seen in his life. He w^as rather a susceptible 
youth. 

“You are Miss Carruthers, I presume?” he asked, 
although he had every reason to believe that she 
was, as the servant had told him Miss Carruthers 
was in the drawing room. 

Hilda hesitated for an almost imperceptible in- 
stant, and then she answered, calmly : 

“Yes.” 

“Then you will sign this receipt, please,” said 
the messenger, producing a book. 

Hilda took the book, walked slowly over to a 
writing table which stood in a corner of the room, 
and signed, of course not her own name. 

Then she returned the book to the messenger, 
who glanced at the signature. 

“Queenie Carruthers,” he said. “Thank you. 
Quite correct. ” 


“GfO AND SIN NO MOREN 


176 


He placed the leather case upon the table. 

“Good-afternoon, miss.’’ 

“Good-afternoon.’’ 

The messenger left the room, with a backward 
glance of admiration. 

Hilda stood as if rooted to the floor. What was 
this mad project that was surging in her brain? 
What was she about to do? Was she, Hilda Corrode, 
to become a common thief? Oh, not that! Surely 
not that! And yet, why not? She had no mercy to 
hope from any one there. Fortune had played into 
her hands. With those jewels, she could fly to some 
distant country, some strange land far beyond Rod- 
ney Haynes’ power, and secretly set men to watch 
and trace the whereabouts of her child. What did 
it all mean? Rest! Wealth! . Happiness! All was 
within her reach. Yes, she would take advantage 
of it. 

She seized the leathern case with its precious 
contents and concealed it beneath her cloak. 

Now for flight! But not through the main en- 
trance. The servants might be about, and suspect. 
There was a French window opening out into the 
garden. Yes, that way! 

She started toward it. 

But before she could reach it a shadow was flung 
across the sunlight, and almost immediately the 
figure of a man appeared in the opening. 

Hilda recognized him both by sight and by 
instinct. It was David Engleheart. 

David w’as not surprised to see her, for he had 
been told by Queenie that she was there. But, 


ne AND SIN NO MOUND 

fearful of any danger that might threaten his darl- 
ing, he had determined to watch this woman whom 
he knew to be her enemy. 

“Why are you hastening away like this?” he 
asked, quietly. 

“Let me pass, please,” replied Hilda, feverishly. 
“My errand here is finished.” 

“Not so! I have just seen Queenie. She pities 
you, she pardons you.” 

The situation was becoming intolerable to Hilda 
Corrode. She felt that she could not endure one 
more word from the lips of this man. She must get 
away from this place, get away with what she imag- 
ined was to purchase her peace. She did not look 
forward to happiness. 

“I want neither her pardon nor her pity,” she de- 
clared. “Will you let me pass?” 

“I cannot permit it yet,” replied David in a 
kindly manner. He knew the whole story, and as 
he believed was detaining her only for her own 
good. “Be patient, and you will find that a pleasant 
surprise is in store for you.” 

But Hilda saw only a threat in these words, which 
were intended to encourage her. 

“Let me go!” she cried, in terror. “Do you hear? 
Let me go !” 

vShe turned from David and darted toward the 
door, only to confront Queenie, Mrs. Jones and 
Sammy. 

“What’s the row?” 

“Whatever is the matter?” 


m 


^‘GO AND SIN NO MOUEN 

The first question from Sammy and the latter 
from Mrs. Jones. 

Hilda was now close to the end of her tether. She 
could not endure much more. 

“Tell this man to let me go!” she cried, franti- 
cally still clutching the case of jewels beneath her 
cloak. “I will not stay ! I have done with you all !” 

Queenie was about to reveal to her the reason why 
she should remain for a time longer when she was 
prevented by the precipitate entrance of Mr. Fuller, 
followed by a very scared young man in a blue 
uniform. 

Mr. Fuller himself was decidedly flustered. 

“Queenie,” he exclaimed, excitedly, “have you 
received your jewels safely?” 

Hilda, with a shuddering motion, drew back. 

“My jewels!” repeated Queenie in surprise. “No, 
Mr. Fuller, I have seen nothing of them.” 

“I thought not,” said the lawyer, emphatically. 
“By luck I met this messenger who told me he had 
delivered the case into your own hands and showed 
me the receipt. But a chance word almost convinced 
me that it wasn’t you, so I brought Him on at 
once.” 

“A receipt,” said Queenie. “Let me look at it.” 

She took the book from the trembling hands of 
the messenger, who, to his horror, now saw that he 
had made a mistake. 

‘This is not my signature!” 

Hilda, in the excitement, was attempting to steal 
toward the door, but the messenger caught sight of 


17S 


GO AND SJN NQ 310 BK 


her, and jumped in front of her, barring her 
progress. 

“No wonder, miss,” he cried, pointing his hand 
at the cowering form of Hilda, “as that’s the lady 
that wrote it. ” 

At this direct denunciation, Hilda attempted to 
assert herself. 

“It’s a lie,” she said, hoarsely. “I know nothing 
of your jewels, and I insist upon leaving this place 
at once.” 

But Sammy, who was certainly a born detective, 
had noticed the protuberance beneath her cloak. He 
gave her arm a sharp knock and the case fell to the 
floor. 

“That’s it!” cried the messenger, picking it up, 
with boundless relief. He then and there registered 
a vow that never again would he fall a victim to 
female beauty. 

After this proof positive, there was intense silence 
in the room. All eyes were fixed upon Hilda, who 
stood motionless, her hands pressed to her panting 
breast. 

David was the first to speak. 

“A thief! Sammy, fetch the police!” 

Sammy departed with alacrity. He had no love 
for Hilda Corrode. 

“What would you do?” asked the guilty woman, 
raising her eyes and speaking in a strained, un- 
natural voice. 

“Send you where you will have to answer for 
your crimes,” answered David, gravely. 

Hilda drew a quick, rasping breath. 


^‘GO AND SIN NO MOREI^ 


179 


“Have me arrested? Yon will not dare!” 

“It is my duty,” was the resolute response. 

No other word was spoken until Sammy returned 
with the policeman. 

Then David turned to the man of the law. 

“I give this woman into custody for stealing a 
case of valuable jewels,” he said, pointing to Hilda. 
“All here can bear witness to the charge.” 

In spite of all, if ever any one was to be pitied it 
was Hilda Corrode at that moment. To be con- 
demned, to be delivered over to justice, by the man 
who had been to her beyond all others. That 
moment w^as surely bitter enough to atone for 
much in her past. 

She shivered and swayed as if about to faint, as 
the officer approached. 

But before his hand could touch her a clear, fresh 
voice cried out, electrifying all those present: 

“See, Hilda, your child I’-’ 

It was Carrie, who had entered through the win- 
dow., and who naturally had no notion whatever of 
what had recently occurred. 

With her was a pretty little girl of some six or 
seven years. 

With a wild shriek, Hilda thrust the officer aside, 
and rushing to the child, flung herself on her knees 
beside her, and clasped her to her breast in a passion 
of sobs and tears. 

“Leila, my darling! My own darling!” 

The little girl threw her arms about her mother’s 
neck and pressed her soft cheek close to the painted 
one. Guilt and innocence in each other’s arms! 


180 


'‘GO AND SINirO MORE. 


With the exception of the officer, who w’as not in 
the secret, there was not a dr}* eye in the room. 

But the law must be enforced, and after a slight 
pause, its representative came fowrard and laid his 
hand upon Hilda’s shoulder. 

She turned and looted up wildly in his face. 

“Mamma,” whimpered the little girl, “I’m 
frightened. What does the policeman want?” 

Upon her knees her child still clasped close to her 
heart, Hilda turned her haggard eyes toward David 
Engleheart, the arbiter of her fate. 

“Ah, no! no! You will not do this thing! Do 
not degrade me in the eyes of my own child! In 
God’s name pity me.” 

“Have mercy, David!” sobbed Queenie, clinging 
to him. 

Her appeal, however, was scarcely necessary, for 
David, touched to the heart’s core, had already made 
up his mind, what to do. 

“Officer, I withdraw my charge.” 

The officer’s hand fell from Hilda’s shoulder. 

“Hilda Corrode,” went on David, solemnly, and 
yet with infinite pity in his tones, “yes, for your 
child’s sake, I will spare you. Go, and sin no 
more!” 


THE ESCAPE ROOM. 


181 


CHAPTER XVIL 

THE ESCAPE ROOM. 

There were many peculiarities about Helliwell 
Mansion, some of which the police were cognizant 
of, and some of whicli they were not. Amongst the 
latter was an apartment on the ground floor which 
was known to the initiated as the “Escape Room.” 

In the centre of this apartment, concealed by a 
large rug was a trap-door, beneath which flowed 
the dark silent waters of the Thames. There was a 
rope ladder, and near by was always concealed a boat. 
This was intended as the last desperate way of escape 
for the “gang,” should the house ever be sur- 
rounded. 

In this room sat Rodney Haynes. He considered it 
as good a place as any other for him to remain in for 
a few days at least. It was in the evening, and he 
was alone in the house, save for one or two servants 
that had been retained to minister to his wants. 

He had been reading a newspaper, and there was 
one item that had interested him greatly. This para- 
graph ran as follows : 

“Important engagement of David Engleheart, the 
Star of the Air. This celebrated gymnast will make 
his first appearance in London at the Indian Exhibi- 
tion on Saturday next.” 


182 


THE ESCAPE ROOM. 


So^ Haynes thought, this muscular rival of his had 
obtained an opening in London, had he? 

That was worth knowing. It would be a clew to 
Queenie’s whereabouts, at any rate. She had beaten 
him for the present, but the game was not lost yet. 

A knock at the door startled him. But in another 
instant he was relieved by the appearance of Mark 
Blackwood. 

“Are you alone, captain?’’ asked the latter, peer- 
ing about the room, which was but dimly lighted. 

“Yes, come in,’’ was the quick, rather irritable 
response. “Now, what’s your news?’’ 

Mark entered, closing the door behind him. 

“Bad,” he answered briefly. 

“Well, out with it. ” 

“I’ve got kicked out from the Burlington.” 

An expression of relief passed over Haynes’ face. 
He had feared that it was something more personal to 
himself. Blackwood’s misfortunes were of no conse- 
quence to him, so long as they did not affect himself. 

“What for? Theft?” he asked, bluntly and con- 
cisely. 

“Yes,” 

“Robbing the till, I suppose.” 

“No,” said Mark, looking him full in the face, 
“robbing the queen’s mail, stealing letters for yon.” 

“Oh, you were caught, eh?” said Haynes, indiffer- 
ently. “Well, what do you come to me for?” 

There was an ugly look in Blackwood’s narrow 
eyes as he came a step or two nearer and replied : 

“I’ve done all your dirty work, but I’m sick of it 
now. To the world at large, who don’t know you as 


THE ESCAPE BOOM. 


183 


I do, 3^ou are a gentleman still. Your word will go a 
long way in getting me a berth. Do this, or ” 

He paused, but there was no question as to the 
significance of the uncompleted sentence. It was a 
threat pure and simple. 

Still, Haynes did not seem to be greatly disturbed. 

“Well, or what?” he asked, coolly. 

“I go straight to the police, and blow all I know. ” 

“Why, you scoundrel,” returned Haynes, with a 
sneering laugh, “I can get you a lifer for burglary 
and manslaughter.” 

Although he was well aware that this was true, 
Blackwood’s blood was up. He was a desperate man, 
and was determined to push matters to extremities. 
His answer was rapid and shrill. 

‘^And I can get you drummed out of one branch of 
her majesty’s service only to enter a far less plea^sant 
one on a charge of robbery, counterfeit coining, con- 
spiracy, abduction, keeping a gaming house ” 

With a dark scowl upon his face, Haynes held up 
his hand for silence. 

Blackwood obeyed and stopped short. He was 
pretty certain now that he had not miscalculated his 
strength, and that he was going to win. 

“I will obtain you a berth on one condition,” said 
Haynes, after a pause. 

“Is it to thieve again for you? I’ve had some ” 

“Simply that you obey me implicitly until the end 
of this week,” interrupted Haynes, “and I will give 
you a sufficient sum of money to make a fresh start. 
Then we will meet no more.” 

Tills suited Blackwood. It was as much as he had 


184 


THE ESCAPE ROOM. 


lioped to obtain, and, although he knew it meant 
further villainy, he was in no position to decline. 

“You promise that?” he asked, scanning the other 
narrowly. 

“I promise.” 

Even if he did not keep his word, things would 
be in no worse condition than they were at present. 

Besides, Mark did not believe that the captain 
would dare to fail him, considering the information 
he possessed. So he consented. 

“Now, what do yon want me to do?” 

“At present my plans are not clearly formed. To- 
morrow, however, go to the Indian Exhibition. They 
want a quantity of men as attendants there. Yon 
wull have no difficulty in obtaining a position. I will 
let you know later in the week w’hat more I require 
of you.” 

The sound of voices outside the door just then 
reached Haynes’ ears, which Iiad been especially on 
the alert of late. 

He caught Blackwood by the arm and drew him 
away into a shadowy corner. 

But the owners of the voices were not people he 
had any cause to fear, as he saw in another moment, 
when Hilda Corrode, holding her little girl by the 
hand, entered the room. 

A low exclamation broke from Haynes’ lips as he 
saw the child. How had Hilda managed to obtain 
possession of her? 

“Mamma, dear,” asked little Eeila, “are we at 
home iK)w?” 

“Not yet, darling,” replied Hilda, tenderly. 


THE ESCAPE ROOM. 


185 


“Mamma will just pack some clothes, and then we 
will both go to a nice home.” 

Then Rodney Haynes stepped forward. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” he asked, in a cold, 
clear voice. 

Hilda involuntarily started back, and, with a quick 
motion, thrust Reila behind her. 

Then she answered him, with head erect and fear- 
less intonation. She despised the man too much to 
fear him. 

“It means,” she said, calmly, “that my child has 
been restored to me.” 

“By whom?” 

“Queenie Carruthers. ” 

Rodney Haynes’ whole frame became convulsed 
with passion. 

“You .have told her this, have you?” he cried, vio- 
lently, half raising his hand. 

In alarm, little Heila ran forward. 

“Oh, don’t, papa!” she cried, imploringly, in her 
sweet, childish treble. “Don’t be cross with me and 
mamma. We’re both so tired, and mamma is so white 
and ill. Poor mamma!” 

Haynes looked at her with an expression of disgust. 
All paternal affection had certainly been left out of 
his composition. 

“I wish you and your wretched mother were 
drowning,” he said, brutally. “Get out of this!” 

In affright, the poor child ran back to her mother, 
who stooped and put her arms soothingly about her. 

“Well, what are you going to do?” asked Haynes, 
addressing Hilda. 


186 


THE ESCAPE ROOM. 


She raised her sad eyes and looked at him. Hilda 
Corrode was a changed woman. She had never been 
thoroughly bad at heart. Circumstances had made 
her what she was, and she had been more sinned 
against than sinning. That scene at Queenie’s villa 
where she had witnessed the divine forgiveness of a 
good woman, and where the man she loved had bade 
her to go and sin no more, had brought to the surface 
all that was good in her. More than this, the inno- 
cent kisses of her little child had roused in her breast 
a determination that her future life should be worthy 
of her better self and of this pure little being that 
loved her and called her mother. 

“I want to pack a few necessary clothes, ” she said, 
quietly, “and I will go and trouble you no more.” 

Haynes shrugged his shoulders scornfully. 

“Indeed! And how^ are you going to live?” 

“Honestly, or starve.” 

There was no bravado, no false heroics in this re- 
sponse; it was simply the calm statement of a fixed 
resolve. Haynes gazed at her in curiosity and sur- 
prise. He could scarcely realize that tliis dignified 
woman before him was the recently fiery and passion- 
ate Hilda Corrode. 

“You will have small chance of doing anything 
else,” he said, with a sneer, “hampered with that 
brat.” 

Hilda’s eyes flashed, but she controlled herself and 
answered in the same quiet manner. 

“I do not fear the future. God will have compas- 
sion upon a repentant sinner, and find work and 


THE ESCJtE noOM. 187 

bread for us both. I will pray for that and for 
strength. ’’ 

Haynes threw back his head, and laughed with 
malignant insolence. 

“You will pray !” he exclaimed. “Ah! I should 
like to hear that! There must be something rather 
precious in the prayers of a “ 

But the words died away on his lips, as Hilda, with 
a cry of mingled rage and horror, sprang toward him. 
All her calmness had vanished. Her cheeks were 
aflame, her eyes ablaze. She was no longer the re- 
pentant Magdalen, but an outraged mother, deter- 
mined to screen her guilty past from her child. 

“Don’t say it,” she cried, with a savage passion. 
“Don’t call a mother that before her child! Have a 
care, Rodney Haynes!” 

In spite of himself, Haynes was awed. 

“A care for you!” he said, attempting to bluster 
it out, but yet in a voice that was a trifle unsteady. 

“Yes, for me!” retorted Hilda, in tones of menace 
that cut the air like a knife. “Ere my child should 
know what you have made me I would kill you !” 

Haynes quailed before the look on her face. He 
knew that she meant just what she said, and he 
thought better of his purpose. 

Delia crept forward and caught one of her mother’s 
hands, which hung by her side. 

“Mamma, don’t! don’t!” she pleaded, softly and 
fearfully. 

“Don’t be alarmed, youngster,” said Haynes, 
forcing a laugh. “Mamma’s only got ’em again.” 
Then he addressed the woman whose life he had 


ISS THE ESCAPE ROOM. 

ruined, but with a luucli more lUvoderate manner 
than he had used heretofore. “Your heroics are 
wasted, Hilda. As far as you are concerned, you and 
the incumbrance can gO to the devil. But, before 
you depart, I must ask you one question.” 

Hilda had l^nelt down by the side of the little girl 
and taken her in her arms. 

“Well?” she asked, raising her eyes. 

“The address where my amiable cousin has hidden 
herself. ” 

Hilda started to her feet. What, put the sleuth 
hound once moie on the track of the quarry whose 
scent he had lost! Subject Queenie to further dan- 
ger, the girl who had forgiven her and restored to her 
her child? Never! She would cut out her tongue 
before it should speak the words. 

“I will not tell you,” she answered, firmly. 

But Haynes, having her there in his power and 
with the knowledge she had which he was so 
anxious to possess, was determined not to be baffled. 
He reflected rapidly as to what it was best to do, and 
then his sensual lips parted in a smile, as there 
occurred to him a project which would certainly force 
her to speak. 

“Mark!” he called, and Blackwood came forth 
from the shadows where he had been lurking, a 
silent listener to the previous scene. “Hock that 
door!” 

The man, without a word, did as he was told. 

As soon as the key clicked in the lock, Haynes 
advanced to Hilda, and seized her by the wrist. 


THE ESCAPE ROOM. 


189 


“Now, my lady, come here!” he said, forcing Iier 
a little to one side. 

Hilda was brave enough, but she knew that physi- 
cally she was no match for these two powerful men. 

“What would you do?” she asked, her cheeks 
paling. 

“Wait!” he answered, roughly, tightening his 
grasp. “Mark, open the trap!” 

For an instant, with an inkling of the truth, 
Blackwood hesitated. Then he flung aside the heavy 
rug, and, catching hold of an iron ring, raised the 
trap door. 

Poor little Lelia tried to reach her mother, but 
Haynes, with his disengaged hand kept her off. 

“Seize the child, Mark,” he commanded, “and 
hold her out of reach.” 

Blackwood caught the little girl, careful, however, 
not to hurt her. 

“Now, come here!” proceeded Haynes, addressing 
himself now to Hilda. 

As he spoke he dragged her to the trap, and 
pointed to the yawning black pit below. 

“You know what that is. A body thrown there 
would cause but a splash. There would be none to 
hear. And soon unknown, unseen, the victim would 
be carried out to sea, while London is sleeping.” 

Hilda shuddered. 

“You would not murder me!” she gasped. 

“Murder you!” replied Haynes, with a short 
laugh. “No! For there are those who would miss 
you. But there is one here who will not be missed, 
and who will not be inquired for.” 


190 


THE ESCAPE ROOM. 


As she grasped his meaning a cry of agonized 
horror burst from Hilda’s lips. 

‘•Leila!” 

For answer Haynes seized her other hand and held 
them both in a vise-like grip. Then he turned to 
Blackwood. 

“Take the child to the edge of the trap, Mark.” 

Blackwood came forward with the helpless little 
girl in his arms. 

White as death, and endeavoring in vain to wrest 
herself free, Hilda shrieked : 

“Haynes, you can’t mean it! You can’t be such 
a fiend I” 

“Can I not? Mark, ’’slowly and distinctly, “when 
I have counted three, raise the child, drop her to the 
river, and close the trap.” 

It was the refinement of torture, and the agonized 
mother was nearly insane. 

“Man! Man!” she cried, appealing to Blackwood. 
“You cannot be so vile as he. Neither my child nor 
I have ever injured you ! Help us!” 

Haynes gave his henchman one rapid glance, in 
which there was both threat and promise, and then 
he said, in a hard, merciless voice: 

“You have nothing to expect from him. It’s more 
than his life is worth to disobey. Now, then, 
Queenie’s address!” 

“She helped me! She saved me! I cannot! I will 
not !” 

“One!” 

The word fell upon Hilda’s ear like a death 
sentence, and yet it would be an act of Judas 


THE ESCAPE ROOM. 


19 1 

to speak, even in order to save her child. With inar- 
ticulate moans and cries she struggled to free herself. 
But all in vain. Her strength was as nothing against 
that of her cowardly persecutor. 

“Two!” 

Mark raised the child high above the trap. 

“Now, will you tell it!!” 

It is probable that the little girl did not fully 
realize her danger,, but still she called out fearlessly : 

“Don’t, mamma, don’t you! You promised the 
kind lady that you wouldn’t. I’m not afraid !” 

“Then die!” exclaimed Haynes brutally. 
“Three!” 

It is more than doubtful if Blackwood would 
have obeyed his master to the last extent, and have 
committed the dastardly crime exacted of him, but 
before he could move or speak, Hilda, at the end 
of her endurance, and moved by a sudden inspiration, 
screamed : 

“Church Road, Bayswater!” 

“And the number!” 

“Twelve!” 

“Good!” exclaimed Haynes, exultantly, as he 
flung her from him, her wrists all bruised and 
bleeding. “Close the trap, now, Mark.” 

Blackwood placed Leila upon the ground, and the 
little girl ran to her mother, where she was clasped 
in a passionate embrace. 

“Now, then,” said Haynes, “clear out of this 
quick ! Do you hear? And don’t let me see either of 
your ugly faces again !” 

And, beckoning Mark to follow him, he strode 


192 


THE ESCAPE BOOM. 


from the room, rejoicing at the success of his inquisi- 
torial measures. 

But, shrewd and unscrupulous as he was, for once 
he had been overreached, by one who in spite of the 
ineffable torment to which she had been subjected, 
had proved herself cleverer than he. 

For, Hilda Corrode had given the wrong address. 

At least for a time Queenie was safe. But when 
Haynes should find out how he had been duped, 
what would happen then? 

“Come, mamma, come,’’ said Leila, trying to 
draw her away, “there is no one here now. Let us 
run away together.” 

Hilda for the moment was at her wits’ ends to 
know just what it was best to do. 

“But where, my darling, where?” she said, 
glancing wildly about her. “There is no place this 
man would not seek us to wreak his vengeance. I 
have you in niy arms again only to bring further 
danger upon you. You, my little one, whom I love 
better than my own life.” 

And she covered the sweet face of the child with 
kisses. . 

Then, rising to her feet, she endeavored to collect 
her thoughts. 

Leila clung close to her. 

“I don’t mind, mamma,” she said, encouragingly, 
“so long as I am with you.” 

“But we must part again, dear,” groaned her un- 
fortunate mother. “I am powerless to protect my only 
treasure. I must hide you. But where? How?” 

Leila was intelligent far beyond her years. She, 


THE ESCAPE BOOM. 


193 


too, took the matter into consideration, and then she 
said, suddenly: 

“Let us go to the pretty lady’s again, mamma.” 

Hilda uttered a cry of delight. Yes, this was 
exactly the thing. Queenie had forgiven her, and 
she surely would not refuse a place of shelter in this 
hour of dire extremity. But it must be for Leila 
alone. She herself must remain there to throw the 
bloodhounds off the track. 

“Yes, yes, my darling!” she exclaimed, excitedly. 
“You shall go to the pretty lady’s. Come quickly, 
come !” 

She took the little girl by the hand and led her 
into the hall. A servant was standing at the half 
open front door, engaged in a discussion with some 
one outside. 

Hilda caught a glimpse of the latter, and, with a 
quickly formed plan in her mind, she hurried for- 
ward and ordered the servant to admit the person 
who had evidently been asking to be allowed to 
enter. 

The servant, who had no reason to suppose that 
Hilda was not still mistress of the house, at once 
obeyed. 

He stepped aside, and a girl of about twenty came 
into the hall. She might have been pretty, had it 
not been for her glittering yellow hair, which was 
only too evidently dyed, the splashes of rouge upon 
her cheeks, and the expression of recklessness in her 
eyes. 

The servant closed the door carefully and disap- 
peared. 


794 THE ESCAPE BOOM, 

The girl, who belonged to that unfortunate class 
of women who have put themselves forever outside 
the pale of respectable society, and who had been a 
frequent visitor to Helliwell Mansion until its por- 
tals were closed,' greeted Hilda effusively, and then 
suddenly interrupting herself, she went on with a 
curious and yet not unsympathetic gleam at Hilda’s 
white cheeks and heavy eyes. 

“Why, what’s up? You look like death!” 

Hilda was well acquainted with this girl, who 
went by the name of Mandie de Frere, and she knew 
that in spite of her many and grievous faults, she 
had a kind heart. At all events, she was forced to 
trust her in her present straits. 

“Maudie,” she said, speaking rapidly and very 
earnestly, “I need a friend. I am in great, great 
trouble, and I want your help.” 

“And you shall have it, old girl,” replied Maudie, 
heartily, if vulgarly. “What’s the row?” 

“My child is in danger.” 

“What! the little pickanniny here, ’’with a kindly 
glance at Feila, who was gazing in shy wonder at 
the flashily dressed lady before her. “Who from?” 

“Haynes.” 

“Oh!” ejaculated Maudie, with a sententious nod 
of her j^ellow head. 

“I want you to take her right away now to an ad- 
dress I will give you,” proceeded Hilda. “There she 
will be in safety. ” 

“Right you are!” agreed Maudie, who, to do her 
justice, was only too glad to be of any assistance. 

Neither of them noticed that a door close by, lead- 


THE ESCAPE BOOM. 


195 


ing to what had formerly been a smoking room, was 
opened ever so little. Mark Blackwood had been 
ordered to watch and follow Hilda if necessary, and 
he was fulfilling the commands laid upon him. 

“Explain to Miss Carruthers,’’ said Hilda, “and 
say that I will write to-morrow.” 

“I twig. And the address?” 

Blackwood strained his ears. 

“Ashborne Villa, Richmond Road, St. John’s 
Wood.” 

The door was noiselessly closed. All Hilda’s 
cleverness had been in vain. The secret she had 
suffered so much to keep was divulged. 

“I’ve got it in my nut,” said Maudie, cheerfull3\ 
“Come along, dearie,” holding out her hand toEeila. 

“Good-by, my darling!” exclaimed Hilda, pas- 
sionately. “Don’t fret. Mamma will soon see her 
little girl again. ” 

“Dear mamma!” murmured Eeila. “Kiss me again 
and I will be brave, and say a prayer every night that 
God will bless and keep you safe!” 

“And He will surely hearken,” sobbed Hilda, the 
tears rolling down her cheeks. “Good-by, my be- 
loved one. Good-by till the day breaks, and the sun 
shines out again. ” 

In another moment, Eeila, under the odd but 
kindly guidance of Maudie de Frere, was on her way 
to what her mother believed would be a safe shelter. 
But it was a long way to St. John’s Wood, and the 
busses are slow. Cabs are much faster, especially 
when a liberal tip has been promised the driver. 


196 


FOB DEAR LIFE’S SAKE, 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

FOR DEAR LIFE’S SAl^E. 

The bells had just chimed the hour of midnight. 
It was a rarely beautiful night. Every star was at - 
its post and shining out its best. 

Just over the trees of the garden of the villa in St. 
John’s Wood was a great cluster, and in their midst 
clearly defined against the dark sky Queenie fancied 
that she could read the name “David.” 

She was very happy to-night as she stood at the 
window of her drawing-room and gazed out at the 
beauty of the heavens. David had been with her all 
the evening, and it was arranged that they were to 
be married very shortly. Just this last engagement 
at the Indian Exhibition and then he was to abandon 
the profession forever. His last scruples in regard to 
allying himself to one so rich as Queenie had be- 
come, had been vanquished. His love had triumphed 
over them. He had a little property of his own, left 
him by his father, who had been a highly respected 
country lawyer, enough to render him independent. 
Then, too, he felt very strongly that Queenie needed 
a protector. 

It seemed to Queenie that her troubles were all 
over, and that her future was as clear and cloudless 
as the exquisite sky above her. And yet even then. 


FOR DEAR LIFE’S SAKE. 


197 


the plot was gradually being woven which was to 
involve her in more deadly peril than any she had as 
yet experienced. 

“Queenie !” 

She turned with a start, brought back from heaven 
to earth. 

“Who’s there?” 

“It’s only me, dear,” said Mrs. Jones’ pleasant 
voice. “I’m so glad you’ve not gone to bed yet. 
There’s a very impudent-looking person in the hall 
who wants to see you. She has Hilda Corrode ’s 
child with her. The idea of coming at this time of 
night !” 

“Whoever can it be?” exclaimed Queenie in sur- 
prise. “Let her come in. ” 

“Very well, dear. Don’t let her stay long, and 
then I’ll go to bed, for I’m clean tuckered out.” 

A minute or two afterward, Maudie de Frere, ap- 
peared, leading little Leila by the hand. 

The little girl at once ran to the “pretty lady.” 

Queenie kissed her tenderly, and then turning to 
the gaudily-dressed girl who had accompanied her, 
asked, courteously: 

“You bring a message, I presume?” 

“Yes,” replied Maudie, feeling a strange sense of 
shame in the presence of this girl with her pure, 
high-bred face, “from Hilda. Her child is in danger. 
She knows no one but you to send it to for safety, 
and if you will keep Leila here she will write you 
to-morrow. ” 

“Certainly,” replied Queenie, cordially. “You 
can say I shall be glad to have her.” 


198 


FOB DEAR LIFERS SAKE. 


“That’s all right, then,” said Maudie, who was 
anxious to get away. “Good-night.” 

“Good-night. ” 

And Queenie held out her hand. 

But Maudie made no movement to take it. Indeed, 
she half hid her own in the folds of her gown. 

“Wait a moment,” she said, part in humiliation, 
part in defiance. “If you don’t remember me, I do 
you. ” 

Queenie looked at her more scrutinizingly than 
she had done before. 

“I think I have seen you somewhere,” she said. 
“But where?” 

“I will tell you. It was at Helliwell Mansion.” 

Queenie involuntarily shrank back, as is the first 
instinct of any good woman when brought into con- 
tact with one of Maudie de Frere’s class. 

“You see!” said Maudie, with a bitter laugh. 
“Do you want to shake hands with me now? You 
don’t! I was right when I told you to wait. ” 

“I don’t wish to be unkind,” said Queenie, falter- 
ingly, “and if you need help ” 

“Oh, yes,” interrupted Maudie, not rndel}^, and 
yet with intense feeling. “You’re full of help, you 
good people! You show us the sin of our daily life, 
shut us up in homes, imprison us • in penitentiaries, 
try to make us godly on bread and water, tracts and 
long sermons. But there’s not one of you will touch 
our hands, kiss our cheeks, and by sisterly love 
make us feel that, fallen as we are, we -are still flesh 
and blood like you who have never known tempta- 
tion. Good-night, Leila!” 


FOE BEAU LIFE'S SAKE. 199 

Leila, who naturally did not understand what all 
this meant, went to her confidingly and lifted up her 
sweet lips. 

The unfortunate girl touched them lightly with 
her own. 

“My kiss does not hurt you, does it, dearie?’’ she 
asked, crushing back a sob. 

“Oh, no,” exclaimed Lelia, in surprised denial. 
“You bought me some beautiful chocolates, and I 
love you very much.” 

And a little child shall lead them ! Queenie’s 
heart smote her. She felt that she had been harsh 
and cruel, and entirely false to her own self. 

She came forward now with hand extended. 

“Forgive me,” she said, gently and penitently. 
“I have seen but little of the world, and at first was 
startled. See, there is my hand now. I am sorry for 
you, and, if you will let me, will be your friend.” 

Maudie was touched, and the tears sprang to her 
eyes. There were impulses for good in the poor girl 
still. . 

She took Queenie’s hand and kissed it. 

“My life has been a very miserable one. Miss 
Carruthers, ” she said, hoarsely, “and I had no 
mother to teach me right from wrong.” 

“In that case, we are sisters,” said Queenie, 
softly, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

“Go now. Come to me to-morrow, and I will aid 
you to a better life.” 

“How good you are !” murmured Maudie, in all 
sincerity. 

“No, not II” Queenie hastened to disclaim. “A 


200 FOE DEAR LIFERS SAKE. 

large fortune has been left me in trust for those who 
sorrow and are heavy laden. It is late. Good-night 
.now, till to-morrow.’’ 

^‘Good-night. ” 

Queenie hesitated an inappreciable instant, and 
then, going quickly to the side of the poor, erring 
girl, she raised her head and kissed her on the lips. 

“Good-night, sister.” 

Crying softly, Maudie went from the room. 

“Poor Maudie,” said Leila, sympathetically, while 
her brown eyes were big with wonder. “Why does 
she cry, kind lady?” 

“Because she has heard good news,” replied 
Queenie, putting her arm about the child and draw- 
ing her toward her. “We do not always cry because 
we are sad.” 

Leila could not quite comprehend this. 

“Poor mamma does,” she declared. “And she 
cried so hard to-night, lady.” 

Queenie thought it wa&. better to change the 
subject. 

“You must not call me that,” she said, with a 
smile. “You must say my name — Queenie.” 

“Oh, what a pretty name!” exclaimed Leila ad- 
miringly. “And it just suits you, for you look like 
one of the beautiful queens I read about in my fairy 
tales.” 

“You little flatterer!” said Queenie, laughing, 
and kissing her. She was beginning to feel very 
much attached to this gentle little creature. “But 
come now, you must go to bed. It is very late for 
little girlies to be up. ” 


FOn DEAB LIFE’S SAKE. 201 

As she spoke she put out the lights, and Leila’s 
hand nestled in hers, led the way into the hall, and 
then, taking up the lighted candle, which had been 
left there for her, went up the stairs with Leila to 
her own chamber, having determined to keep the 
little girl with her that night. 

The house was very still, all the rest of the in- 
mates having retired. 

Queenie’s room was in an ell at the back of the 
house, Mrs. Jones and Carrie sleeping in the front, 
some distance away. Queenie had chosen this room 
because it had windows on three sides, and she was 
fond of air and light. 

It was a large apartment, furnished with sombre 
but handsome old-fashioned furniture. 

With tender hands Queenie undressed the child, 
and after having heard her say her prayers, in which 
was asked a blessing for the mother, of whom Leila 
knew no evil, she tucked her up carefully, put out 
the candle so that the light might not keep the 
little one awake, and then went and sat down by the 
window. 

She was not sleepy, and she had much to think 
about. That poor little waif! Surely her tiny voice, 
upraised in prayer, must have pierced the clouds and 
reached to heaven. Ah! the sin of mighty London 
rocked her cradle and its shadow loomed dark and 
threatening on her onward path ! 

Queenie leaned her head forward until it rested 
against one of the heavy iron rods with which the 
window was barred. This brought her thoughts to 
David, for had he not insisted on this protection to 


202 


FOB DEAR LIFERS SAKE. 


every window of her chamber. Dear David ! How 
kind and thoughtful he always was! 

But if David Engleheart could have known the 
danger his betrothed was in at that very moment, he 
would scarcely have been smiling so happily to him- 
self as he wended his way through the quiet streets 
to his lodgings. 

For Rodney Haynes was there in that room with 
Queenie, and in another minute she would be at his 
mercy. 

Mark Blackwood had lost no time in acquainting 
his master with the information he had overheard, 
and, without giving any thought just then to Hilda 
and the deception she had practiced upon him, 
Haynes had started at once for St. John’s Wood. 

Arrived at Ashbourne Villa, he had found no 
difficulty in penetrating to the garden. Creeping 
cautiously nearer and nearer to the house, he hid 
himself behind some bushes just as David Engleheart 
and Queenie emerged from one of the French win- 
dows of the drawing-room. 

Chance favored him, for, from a few words of 
David’s regarding the bars to the windows, he 
learned which was Queenie’s chamber and at once 
his villainous plot was formed. 

David was about to depart and Queenie accom- 
panied him to the street gate. 

Now was Haynes’ opportunity. He darted through 
the window of the drawing-room and made his way 
into the hall. No one was up in the house, except 
Mrs. Jones, and she was dozing peacefully upon the 
porch. It was a simple matter to locate Queenie’s 


FOU DEAF LIFERS SAKE. 203 

room, and Haynes soon found himself within those 
precincts which should have been sacred to him. 

He lighted a match and looked about him. In one 
corner of the room was a large mahogany wardrobe, 
whch would serve admirably as a hiding place, and 
he was behind its doors when Queenie entered the 
room with Leila. 

The presence of the child was unfortunate, but he 
would not allow that to interfere with his projects. 

As soon as he thought the child was asleep he 
came softly from the wardrobe and stole across the 
room to the door. This he locked and put the key 
in his pocket. 

He had made no noise, but that instinct which 
sometimes tells us of the presence of a person near 
us, even though we see no one, warned Queenie that 
some one else beside herself and Leila was in the 
room. 

With a vague uneasiness, she rose and relighted 
the candle. As the flame flared up she saw not six 
feet from her the hateful, mocking face of the man 
she feared and hated the most in the world. 

“Rodney Haynes!’’ she cried, with a scream, her 
heart seeming to stop its beating. 

“Yes, my dear cousin,” said Haynes, imperturb- 
ably. “Excuse my abrupt intrusion. It wasn’t con- 
venient for me to send in my visiting card.” 

Queenie, with a mad desire to escape, made a rush 
for the door, but of course it resisted all her efforts. 

“Locked 1” laughed Haynes. “And the key is in 
my pocket!” 


204 


FOE DEAR LIFE’S SAKE. 


Queenie turned leaning back against the wall as if 
for support. 

“Rodney Haynes, ” she began in a voice which 
shook in spite of all her efforts to control it, “I do 
not ask you how you came here, or what is your pur- 
pose, but I command you to leave this room at 
once 

With a satirical smile upon his face, Haynes 
calmly seated himself. 

“No fear of that!” he said, with the utmost non- 
chalance. “I am too comfortable where I am. 
Besides, my dear cousin, I am master of the situation 
and it is my turn now to command.” 

It seemed to Queenie as if the blood was turning 
to ice in her veins, but she forced herself into some- 
thing approaching calmness. 

“Every moment you remain in this room imperils 
my good name! Every word you speak is an insult 
to my honor!” / 

“Precisely,” assented Haynes, with another evil 
smile. “That is what I am staying for. No one has 
seen me enter, and I will take care that in broad 
daylight everybody sees me go out.” 

This cynical statement drove Queenie frantic with 
horror. She flung herself against the door, beating 
upon the panel and screaming for help. 

“No good, my dear,” said Haynes. “You are a 
long way from the rest of the house. No one will 
hear you. ” 

A prey to despair, Queenie ceased her efforts. 

“Rodney Haynes,” she said, quivering from head 
to foot, “but a few days ago you were boasting of 


FOR DEAR LIFE’S SAKE, 


205 


the noble lives our ancestors led before us. How 
they would blush if they could look down upon you 
now!” 

Haynes shrugged his shoulders. He had long ago 
become impervious to any feeling of shame or 
remorse. 

“Ah! they’re too busy where they are. You see, 
being quite in my power, you had better listen to my 
proposal. ” 

She made no reply in words, but motioned him to 
proceed. 

“What I propose is simply this,” he said, drawing 
a folded document from his pocket and laying it 
down upon the table beside him. “That you sign 
this paper, makin , over to me half the fortune my 
uncle gave you.” 

The color was slowly coming back into Queenie’s 
cheeks. She was beginning to recover from her first 
fright, and already her brain was at work, endeavor- 
ing to discover some way to outwit this scoundrel. 

“Never!” she cried, spiritedly. “Do you hear? 
Never! With this money I intend to relieve those 
who suffer and are in want, and I won’t rob the poor 
to feed the vices of a libertine like you !” 

Haynes was not greatly disappointed at this rejec- 
tion of his proposal. He had scarcely hoped to suc- 
ceed at first. But he was by no means at the end of 
his resources. 

“Then you know the consequences,” he said, 
rising. 

“I do not fear them. I will go from this room. 


206 


POii DEAR LIFERS SAKE. 


as you say, in broad daylight, and face the world 
fearlessly, guiltlessly.” 

“Will you?” he said, advancing toward her, witli 
an evil leer upon his face. “Don’t make too sure!” 

“Stand back!” cried Queenie, her very soul filled 
with dread and loathing. 

“Who can make me do that?” 

A little white figure darted between them. It was 
Leila, who brave little woman that she was, had 
crept from her bed, and now interposed her weak 
form between the lady who had been so kind to her 
and the danger which she knew, without under- 
standing, threatened her. 

“Papa!” she cried. “What are you doing here?” 

Haynes paused. He had forgotten the child. 
Then, with a furious oath, he exclaimed: 

“Stand aaide! Do you hear?” 

“I will not!” replied Leila, dauntlessly. “I’m 
only a little girl, but you shall kill me before you 
touch my dear good Queenie.” 

Foaming with rage, Haynes yelled : 

“You imp! I’ll ” 

He stretched out his hand to seize her, but before 
he could touch her Queenie had caught the child 
and swung her to one side. Then, with an impulse 
of ungovernable passion, which she had never ex- 
perienced in her life before, she raised her hand, 
and, with all her strength, struck Haynes full across 
the face. 

Taken completely by surprise, he recoiled. As he 
did so, with a flash of memory which was little short 
of providential, Queenie darted to the bureau, flung 


FOn DEAR LIFE’S SAKE. 207 

Open one of the drawers, and snatched np a revolver 
which lay there. It was one that had been given her 
that very morning by David, but she had forgotten 
it until that moment. 

Haynes, with convulsed face, was again advancing 
toward her, but she leveled the weapon at his head, 
and brought him to a standstill. 

“You thought I was entirely friendless!” she 
cried, with a wild burst of hysterical laughter. 
“You see, you were wrong!” 

For an instant Haynes was nonplussed. He did 
not know what to do next. Finally, after a short 
reflection, he said, and really believing it as well: 

“What’s a revolver in the hands of a woman? 
You wouldn’t know how to fire it.” 

But here, to his cost, he was entirely mistaken. 

“Wouldn’t I?” cried Queenie, with flashing eyes, 
ready now to do anything, everything to protect 
herself. “See!” 

A sharp report rang out. Haynes uttered a cry of 
pain as his left arm fell powerless to his side. ' 

Queenie’s nearest and dearest would not have 
recognized her at that moment. She was no longer 
the gentle, clinging girl, but a determined woman, 
resolved to defend herself and her honor at all costs. 

“You seem to forget,” she exclaimed, with savage 
exultation, “how many I have fired “on the slack- 
wire in the circus! I winged your left arm so that 
your right should be free to unlock that door! There 
are five more chambers loaded. Now, go, while you 
are safe !” 

Once again she covered him with the revolver. 


208 FOB DEAR LIFE’S SAKE. 

Haynes, with fiendish rage in his breast, knew 
that he was beaten. ‘ He slunk across the room, like 
the whipped cur he was, and unlocked the door. 
But even then his native cunning did not desert 
him. He had the presence of mind to slip the key 
from the lock. 

j He had no sooner disappeared than, womanlike, 
all Queenie’s fortitude deserted her. The revolver 
slipped from her hand, and, sinking half fainting 
upon the floor, she burst into a torrent of sobs and 
tears. 

In an instant Lelia’s little arms were about her 
neck. 

“Don’t cry, Queenie, dear,” she murmured, con- 
solingly. “We’re safe now.” 

With a supreme effort, Queenie managed to regain 
to a certain extent her composure. 

“Yes, safe now, my child,” she said, as soon as 
she could control her voice, “but who knows for 
how long?” 

As was only natural, Queenie was discouraged and 
distrustful of the future. For one bitter moment she 
doubted if, in all that great city, there was one 
honest heart. That man, like a dark shadow, was 
ever pursuing her. The fortune that had been left 
as a blessing was proving a curse, and its weight was 
crushing her. 

Then she thrust aside these unhappy thoughts, 
and essayed to quiet the child before putting her to 
bed again. 

But suddenly Delia started from her arms. 


FOR DEAR LIFE’S SAKE. 


209 


‘listen, Queenie,” she cried, exctiedly, “don’t 
you hear a funny noise?” 

‘ It’s nothing, dear,” answered Queenie, reassur- 
ingly, “only one of the strange noises of the night. 
Come, now we’ll go to bed.” 

“No! no! Hark, there it is again.” 

And then Queenie did hear it. It was a queer, 
crackling sound, and proceeded from the hall out- 
side. As she was about to investigate a red gleam 
shone from beneath the door. 

She started back with a cry of dread and horror. 
It was fire ! Rodney Haynes had set fire to the house ! 

Catching Leila by the hand, she rushed to the 
door and tried it. It was locked on the outside. Oh, 
for strength to break it down, but that she, a frail 
girl, did not possess. Her foot struck against the 
pistol she had dropped upon the floor, and this gave 
her an idea. She caught up the weapon and fired it 
at close range at the lock. The shot told. The lock 
was shattered into a score of pieces. 

Queenie pulled open the door, but only to close it 
even more quickly. The hall was a mass of flames. 

Like an animal caught in a trap, she glanced 
wildly about for means of escape. The windows 
were barred. ' What David had intended as a means 
of protection were likely to prove exactly the 
contrary. 

The fire was gaining ground. The menacing 
scarlet glare was growing brighter and brighter and 
the roar of the flames louder and louder. 

“God help us! God help us!” she moaned despair- 
ingly 


210 


FOE DEAR LIFERS SAKE. 


Then as she raised her eyes to heaven, it seemed 
as if her prayer were answered. 

In the ceiling jnst above the wardrobe was a trap 
door that led to the roof. It was a chance. This 
might prove a way to life. 

Queenie’s brain worked w’ith that marvelous 
celerity which desperate situations generally inspire. 
She pushed a table up against the wardrobe. Then 
tearing a sheet from the bed, she mounted first upon 
the table and so to the top of the wardrobe. To 
unbolt the trap door and fling it open was the work 
of but a moment. 

The flames were now licking the door, and one 
ugly bloodlike line was creeping across the floor. 

Queenie shrilly commanded Telia to climb up 
upon the table, and, then, lowering the sheet she 
drew the child up beside her. 

It was no difficult task for them to clamber 
through the trapdoor to the flat roof above. 

The cool night air was delicious after the horrible 
heat of the room below. 

But were they any nearer to safety than before? 
On one side was the garden. To leap down was 
certain death. 

On the other, some forty feet away, was another 
villa. Oh, if its roof could only be reached ! Yes, 
there was a way, a desperate one, but still possible. 

From one roof to the other stretched a telegraph 
wire. It was not as heavy as the one Queenie had 
been accustomed to walk in the circus. Would it 
bear their weight? Heaven alone could tell. 

Her face gleaming ghastly white in the moonlight, 


FOR DEAR LIFERS SAKE. 


211 


Queenie bent over the little girl by her side, a brave 
little girl too she had proved herself, for not a 
whimper had escaped from her. 

“Now, Leila, darling, courage! Climb on my 
back! Quick! Quick!” 

This latter as a volume of flame and smoke burst 
through the trapdoor. 

Queenie placed her foot upon the wire. It trembled 
and swayed beneath her touch. The White Queen 
of the Slack Wire w^as about to attempt her greatest 
feat, and two lives were the price gf her success or 
failure. 

Slowly foot by foot she advanced over the vacil- 
lating metal cord. She was dimly conscious that 
beneath her there was a little knot of people who 
were watching her progress with bated breath. 

Once she tottered and seemed about to fall. A 
muffled cry went up on the night air, as Carrie Jones 
sank half fainting into her mother’s arms. 

But, thank heaven, the alarm was a false one! 
Queenie quickly recovered her balance, and the 
perilous journey was resumed. 

The longed-for haven, the roof of the other villa, 
was now ten feet away, now five, now one, and at 
last it was reached in safety. 

A mad cheer of relief and joy went up from below 
as Queenie, the terrible strain removed, sank down 
unconscious. 

Ah ! there is a power above your wickedness, 
Rodney Haynes, and it has saved those whom you 
would have destroyed ! 


212 


DESFEBATE! 


CHAPTER XIX. 
desperate ! 

Once more Rodney Haynes was in tlie Escape 
Room. He was pale, haggard and unshaven. There 
was a wild light in his eyes, the light of incipient 
insanity. 

For two days of awful solitude, he had been alone 
in that dreadful place, the house closed, the servants 
flown. The deathly silence was driving him mad. 
If there were only some living creature near him, if 
he could but hear the sound of a human voice! At 
times he felt inclined to rush forth and risk it all. 
Anything was better than this suspense. 

He started and shivered at every noise. 

Ah! this time it was a footstep! Queenie had 
denounced him. They were coming to arrest him. 
Where could he hide? 

But before he could decide, the footsteps came 
nearer and nearer, and Mark Blackwood entered the 
room. He was in the uniform of an attendant at the 
Indian Exhibition. 

As he recognized him so intense was the relief 
that Haynes burst into a frenzied peal of laughter. 

“Ah, Mark!” he exclaimed, in a voice not far re- 
moved from a shriek. “Only you! How you startled 
me !” 


DESPERATE ! 


21B 


Mark grinned. He thoroughly enjoyed Haynes’ 
terror. 

“Thought it was the police, eh, captain?” he said, 
slily. 

“I am full of strange fancies,” replied Haynes, 
passing his hand mechanically over his forehead. 
“It’s this terrible solitude.” 

“You look a little off,” observed Mark, looking 
at him with a satisfaction he took no pains to con- 
ceal. “Times aje changed, Captain. It is you who 
have most to fear the law now.” 

Haynes shuddered, and he glanced about him with 
a hunted look. 

“Stow that!” he exclaimed, roughly, and with 
something of his old masterful manner. “If I fall 
you go to quod with me. So be careful to keep your 
word. ” 

Mark had no intention of not doing this. He 
wanted his reward, and, more than this, he was 
quite w^ell aware that if he played false Haynes 
would not hesitate, be the consequences what they 
might, to denounce him to the authorities. 

“Right!” he said, with a curt nod of the head. 
“To the end of the week, but only till then, I am 
your very obedient servant. You say you are alone 
here. Where’s Miss Corrode?” 

An oath, sprang from Haynes’ lips. 

“She disappeared on the night of the fire, and is 
now at the devil I hope. Any news?” 

“All London is ringing with the story of Miss 
Carruthers’ brave escape with the kid. She’s the 


214 


DESPERATE! 


lion of the hour. A pretty bungle you made of that 
job with all your cleverness.” 

Haynes smote his hands together in impotent 
fury. “Curse her!” he ejaculated, fiercely. “But 
I’ll have another try for the fortune! So,” after a 
pause and glancing at Mark’s uniform, “they took 
you on at the exhibition, did they?” 

“Yes, I look after the Temple of Somnath. ” 

“What the devil’s that?” 

“The place where the suttee is in full work. It’s 
rather dangerous, so I am on guard all the time the 
temple is open. ” 

“Dangerous! How?” asked Haynes, idly. 

“Well, you see, it’s a perfect representation of the 
manner in which the Hindoos burn the widows with 
their departed husbands. To make it more realistic, 
at frequent intervals the pyre is fired from beneath 
and flames up just as it would if it held a real 
victim. ” 

A real victim ! Rodney Haynes was no longer 
listless. His brain, inflamed as it was almost to the 
point of insanity, had conceived a project, born of 
Mark’s description. 

“And David Engleheart appears there to-mor- 
row,” he said, slowly and musingly. 

“Yes,” replied Mark, “in the grounds. But they 
say he will be there only for a few days. He and 
Miss Carruthers are to be married almost imme- 
diately.” 

“Not if I can help it!” cried Haynes, with savage 
determination. Then suddenly turning toward his 


DESFEUATE! 


215 


companion, he -went on excitedly, “See here, Mark! 
I must be there. You must find a way 

“You’re raving, man!” interrupted Blackwood, in 
all honesty. “You’d be nabbed for certain.” 

But Haynes waved his hand scornfully and 
resolutely. 

“I tell you I must see this Engleheart! She, too, 
is sure' to be there. I’ll make one more venture for 
the money.” ' 

Mark looked at him curiously. He was interested, 
for he knew that he would undoubtedly be called 
upon to lend a hand. 

“What can you do?” he asked. 

Haynes was now abnormally excited by the 
ideas with which his brain was teeming. His cheeks 
w'ere flushed, and his eyes gleamed unnaturally. 

“The lover out of the way, who’ll defend her?” 
he cried. “The girl out of the way the money must 
come to me as next of kin.” 

Mark shook his head. For more reasons than one 
he was opposed to what these words unmistakably 
hinted at. 

“Don’t risk it, captain!” he protested, earnestly. 
“It will mean the gallows if you fail.” 

A look of grim resolve appeared upon Haynes’ 
face. 

“If I fail I’ll end it myself without the hangman’s 
help,” he replied, significantly. “You must get me 
some disguise.” 

Blackwood thought a moment and then he said: 

“I have it. There are lots of the native costumes 


216 


DESPEEATE! 


lying about the exhibition. I’ll collar one, and 
bring it the first thing in the morning.” 

“Good! Now go and don’t fail me 1” 

“Never fear!” replied Mark, confidently, as he 
moved toward the door. “By the way,” turning, 
“I suppose there’s plenty of booze left in the Man- 
sion. You haven’t got through the lot yourself, 
have you?” 

“By Jove, I’ve tried to the last few days,” 
laughed Haynes. “You’ll find plenty downstairs. 
And perhaps you’d better bring me up a bottle of 
brandy before you go.” 

“Take my advice, captain, keep off it!” returned 
Blackwood, warningly. “You’ve got a big job on 
hand to-morrow, and will want a clear head, a steady 
hand.” 

Left alone, Rodney Haynes began to pace rest- 
lessly and excitedly up and down the floor, ever and 
anon muttering aloud to himself. 

A clear head ! A steady hand ! Yes, with this 
fearful purpose surging in his brain. What had 
Mark Blackwood said? The very pyre where the 
Hindoos burned their defenseless women. At fre- 
quent intervals it is fired from beneath, and flares up 
just as if it held a real victim. 

“A real victim,” he repeated, aloud, in a hoarse, 
chuckling whisper that in the silence of that deso- 
late room sounded uncannyc “I wonder, I wonder 
who would aid her then!” 


A GUAED OF THE HEATHEN. 


217 


CHAPTER XX. 

A GUARD OF THE HEATHEN. 

The Indian Exhibition was the rage of London, 
both fashionable and unfashionable, and all classes 
of society thronged there. It was really a very inter- 
esting place, giving, as it did, a clear and succinct 
picture of the different phases of the great Indian 
Empire. 

On this particular Saturday afternoon it was more 
than usually crowded, for the Star of the Air, whose 
provincial fame had reached London, was to make 
his first appearance in what was announced as his 
last professional engagement. Additional interest 
was obtained from the fact that it was generally 
known he was the betrothed husband of the young 
girl whose brave and marvelous escape from the 
burning house was on every one’s tongue. 

Of course Queenie went to the Exhibition in order 
to be present at David’s performance, and so did ^ 
Mrs. Jones, Carrie and Sammy Blythe. The latter 
was in the seventh heaven of delight, for that very 
morning Miss Caroline Jones had promised to take 
upon herself the matrimonial vows and become Mrs. 
Samuel Blythe the same day that made Dave and 
Queenie one. Sammy suited at last. 


218 A GUARD OF THE HEATHEN. 

Not tlie least attractive spot in the Exhibition was 
the so-called .Temple of Somnath. It was a circular 
building of the shape of the Colosseum, only much 
smaller, and with no roof. It was fitted up in exact 
imitation of a Hindoo temple. The walls were 
gorgeously decorated in red, black and yellow. At 
one end towered an enormous, gem-bedecked Indian 
idol, with an ugly, sinister face and arms as many 
as those of the famed Briareus. Below the pedestal 
on which the idol rested was a suttee altar, piled 
with faggots. 

This was the place of which Mark Blackwood 
was the custodian. On this particular afternoon he 
was in anything but a cheerful frame of mind. He 
was in an unpleasant state of suspense, knowing 
that some dastardly act was in contemplation, and 
that he would be called upon to enact his part. He 
swore to himself, however, that the money which 
was to set him free once in his possession he would 
never again become Rodney Haynes’ slave. 

He had fulfilled his promise, procured one of the 
Hindoo costumes, and assisted Haynes to make 
himself up so like one of the dark-skinned attendants 
that even his closest acquaintance would not have 
known him unless he spoke. 

But he had not appeared yet, and Blackwood in 
spite of the money he was in such sore need of, was 
almost hoping he would not, when his quick eyes 
caught sight of two people entering the temple, by 
whom he did not care to be recognized. He, therefore, 
slipped behind the colossal figure of the idol. There 
his arm was caught in a nervous grasp, and Rodney 


A GUARD OF THE HEATHEN. 


219 


Haynes’ voice warned hiin^ in a rancous whisper, 
that the time for action was close at hand. 

The two visitors, the advent of whom had caused 
Blackwood to hide himself, were David Engleheart 
and Qiieenie Carruthers. 

Qiieenie had entirely recovered from her trying 
experience of a few nights before, and was looking 
wonderfully beautiful in a costume of pale shades of 
gray and blue, that was exceedingly becoming to 
her delicate coloring. 

“Oh, David,” she exclaimed, as she entered the 
Temple, “what an odd and yet impressive place.” 

“It is the Temple of Somnath,” replied David, 
his eyes resting lovingly and proudly upon her ex- 
quisite face. “The. place where all the native 
religious rites are observed. ” 

Queenie gazed about her with a sort of awe. 

“And that colossal figure there?” she queried. 

“The most dreadful of all the Heathen deities, the 
awful Somnath. I was allowed to examine it yester- 
day. It is quite hollow, and, when appealed to by 
the ignorant idol-worshippers, a priest secreted 
inside sends tongues of flame from the eyes and 
mouth to persuade them, that their god hears and 
answers.” 

“And this strange altar?” asked Queenie, indi- 
cating the suttee. 

“The Brahmin widow was chained there with 
the corpse of her husband, and slowly consumed by 
fire — the dead with the living.” 

Queenie shuddered, and, drawing close to David, 
slipped her hand within his arm, 


220 A QUART) OF THE HEATHEN. 

“How horrible!” she murmured. “We ought to 
be thankful that we were born in a Christian land 
where such terrors are unknown.” 

“And now, sweetheart,” said David, “it is time 
for me to dress. ” 

Queenie glanced up to where, above the walls of 
the temple could be seen the lofty scaffolding which 
supported the trapeze. 

“Oh, David,” she said, “think of the thousands 
that will be gazing up at you, and I shall be the 
proudest of them all, knowing that you belong to 
me.” 

“Always!” he answered fervently, bending to kiss 
the sweet, red lips. 

Then he added, loath to leave her alone: 

“But where can Mrs. Jones and Carrie be?” 

“Don’t 5^011 wait for me, dear,” protested Queenie. 
“They are sure to come before your turn.” 

“But won’t you feel nervous remaining here 
alone?” 

“Why should I? This is a public place. None 
can harm me here.” 

“True,” assented David, although still strangely 
reluctant to leave her. “I shall look down for you 
among the crowd.” 

If he could only have known under what circum- 
stances he was to view her from the height of that 
lofty trapeze 1 

“How can you see me in the midst of the multi- 
tude?” asked Queenie, smiling. 

“No multitude could hide you from me,” replied 


A GUARD OF THE HEATHEN. 


221 


David, tenderly. “Dove has eyes that can pierce 
the densest crowd. ” 

Queenie watched him until he had disappeared, 
with joy and pride in her heart. How bright and 
beautiful the world looked to her to-day ! Safe in 
the love of the man she had chosen, young, rich, 
happy, where was there a luckier girl in all Dondon 
than Queenie Carruthers? 

Absorbed in her contemplation of the many won- 
ders of the temple, Queenie did not observe that the 
few visitors had left, nor did she notice the man who 
glided from beliind the altar and fastened every 
means of egress. 

When at last she realized that it must be time for 
David’s performance she found herself locked in — a 
prisoner. 

She was not particularly alarmed at first. She 
supposed that the temple must have been closed 
until the open-air programme was concluded. But 
gradually the deadly stillness of the place oppressed 
her, and fillerf her with a nameless dread. That 
terrible figure of Somnath seemed to be gazing 
down upon her with eyes full of a threatening anger. 

She looked up and saw on the trapeze without the 
figure of David. The performance had begun. 

She could endure that dreadful place no longer. 
She was about to go to one of the doors and call for 
aid to be released, when there emerged from behind 
the huge idol a man in Hindoo costume. 

Ah ! he could tell her how to get out. She started 
toward him, and then paused as if turned to stone, 


222 A aUAED OF THE HEATHEN. 

as the tones of a well-known, detested voice fell 
upon her ear. 

“Well met, my fair cousin.’’ 

“You! You here!” she managed to gasp, as she 
recognized him beneath his disguise. 

“Yes, cousin mine, and all for the pleasure of 
seeing your fair face again.” Then, with a quick 
change from this mocking courtesy he called out in 
a tone of command: “Seize her, Mark!” 

At this Mark Blackwood appeared from his hiding 
place. It was in vain for Queenie to struggle. In 
less than a minute she was overpowered, and her 
hands firmly tied behind her back. 

Then Haynes laughed aloud, a horrible, grating 
laugh. 

“Alone, defenseless and at my mercy at last,” 

But Queenie’s spirit was not conquered. 

“What villain’s work is this?” she demanded, 
indignantly. 

“Mark, go out of earshot,” ordered Haynes. “My 
charming cousiri and I have some family matters to 
discuss. ” 

Mark retired a short distance, 

“You do not seem afraid,” said Haynes, survey- 
ing her critically, gloatingly. 

“I am not afraid,” she answered, bravely. 

“You should be, for death is near.” 

“Death!” 

“The time is past for bandying words. Alive you 
are hateful to me. Your death will give me fortune, 
freedom and I will grasp it.” 

“Still I do not fear,” she answered, her gaze 


J QTJARD OF THE HEATHEN, 


223 


fixed unwaveringly upon his darkened face, with its 
wild, bloodshot eyes, “I shall not be the first 
woman who met her death at the hands of a pitiful 
coward.’’ 

“Silence!” thundered Haynes, furiously. 

“A cur! A blackleg!” proceeded Queenie, with 
scathing emphasis. 

With a howl of rage, Haynes darted toward her 
and caught her roughly by the shoulders. . 

“Help me, Mark!” he shrieked. “Throw her on 
the altar. ” 

Blackwood came forward. 

“Man ! what are you going to do?” he asked in 
low, tense tones. 

“Show her how the Hindoos burn their women. 
In a moment the fire will rise and consume her. ” 

With all his dormant instinct of manhood aroused, 
Mark Blackwood swung Queenie behind him. Then 
he faced defiantly the man who had so long been his 
master. 

“No, I’m damned if it shall!” he cried, sternly 
and emphatically. 

Haynes looked at him in mingled anger and 
amazement. 

“You defy me. ” 

But the slave had broken his shackles forever. 

“You’re not a man ! You’re a fiend! Before I’ll 
stand by and witness such a barbarous deed. I’ll die 
myself. ” 

“Ah!” breathed Queenie, gratefully. “Heaven 
has sent me a protector’” 


224 


A GUARD OF THE HEATHEK 


“Come, Miss Carriitliers,’^ said Mark, “I will 
take you from this place.” 

“The doors are locked,” returned Queenie. 

“But the keys are here,” producing them from 
his pocket. 

“Do you think I will permit you to use them?” 
yelled Haynes. 

As he spoke, he drew a pistol, leveled it and 
fired. 

With a cry, Mark Blackwood threw up his arms 
and fell, face downward, shot through the heart. 

His cry was echoed by Queenie. Her only de- 
fender was gone. 

The next moment she was seized, flung upon the 
faggot-laden altar, and the chains adjusted so that 
she could not extricate herself. 

“In a few minutes,” said Haynes, with a derisive 
laugh, “my White Queen will be ashes, and the 
inheritance mine!” 

He picked up the keys where they had fallen, 
unlocked one of the doors and left the temple. 

“Rodney 1 Rodney !” pleaded Queenie, with ashen, 
quivering lips. “You cannot be in earnest. Think 
to what you are condemning me! Pity!' Pity!” 

There was no answer. She was alone, doomed to 
a horrible death. 

She twisted her head to obtain one last look at 
the man she loved. But the trapeze was empty. 
David was not there. Oh ! could not his eyes see. 
his heart guess her peril ! 

There was a roaring sound beneath her and little 


A GUARD OF THE HEATHEN. 225 

tongues of flame began to lick the faggots. It was 
the time for the lighting of the pyre. 

Queenie tried to pray, but her lips refused to form 
the words. 

Tlien, as she closed her eyes and gave herself up 
for lost, there was a loud crash. The lower part of 
the idol fell outward, and David .Engleheart dashed 
through the opening. He leaped down beside the 
altar, unloosened the chains, and snatched Queenie 
from the pyre, just as the whole mass of faggots 
burst forth into a blaze. 

The suttee had been cheated of its victim ! 

From his lofty perch upon the trapeze David had 
witnessed the cowardly assault upon Queenie. To 
the boundless surprise of the crowd of spectators, he 
slid down the rope to the ground, and rushed franti- 
cally to the doors of the temple. These of course he 
found locked. Then he remembered that there was 
a way to reach the interior of the idol, and a spring 
which would remove a portion of it, and give him 
access to the temple. Fortunately all worked well, 
and he arrived just in the nick of time to save the 
lovely girl who was more to him, far more, than 
life itself. 

Rodney Haynes was apprehended the next day, 
but he did not suffer, at least upon this earth, the 
punishment his crimes so richly deserved. He 
escaped that by means of the poison with which he 
had provided himself for just such an emergency. 

Hilda Corrode is in London, Queenie’s agent to 
rescue and provide respectable employment for the 


2^6 A QUAUD OF THE HEATHEN. 

unfortunate women with which the great metropolis 
teems. In her work, she is assisted by the girl who 
w’as once known as Maudie de Freer. Purified by 
suffering, Hilda no longer aspires after the unattain- 
able, but is peaceful and contented in the good she 
is doing, and in the affection and companionship of 
her little daughter. 

David and Queenie are married. Mr. Fuller gave 
the bride away. They have purchased a beautiful 
estate in that most beautiful of all counties, Devon- 
shire. 

Mrs. Jones lives with him. She has abandoned 
traveling with the circus, but she still delights in 
reminiscences of when she rode barebacked before 
the Prince of Wales. Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Blythe, 
the latter formerly Carrie Jones, are frequent and 
warmly welcomed visitors. 

For our hero and heroine it seems as if the clouds, 
which so long overshadowed them, had rolled away 
forever, and the sunlight was clear and strong upon 
their lives. 

Safe in their lovely home, supremely happy in 
each other’s devotion, there are none in all the 
neighborhood more beloved and respected than they 
who were once The Star of the Air and The 
White Queen of the Slack Wire. 


[the end,] 


rirs. Georgie Sheldon’s 




NOVELS 


These novels can he had only m the Clover Series of 
25 cent copyrig:ht novels, and in cloth* 


Stella Rosevelt 

Trixy 

Max 

Thrice IVedded 
T'irgie's Inheritance 
Tina 

Geoffrey’s Victory 
Mona 

Brownie’s Triumph 
Earle IVayne’s No- 
bility 

Lost, A Pearle 


Sibyl’s Influence 
A True Aristocrat 
IVitch Haiel 

Audrey’s Recom- 
pense 

That Dowdy 
IVedded By Fate 
His Heart’s Queen 
Nameless DeU 
The Forsaken Bride 
Marguerite’s Heri- 
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STREET & SniTH, Publishers, 

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it since Ivanhoe.” 

The Firm of Girdlestone. 

“A startlingly realistic novel of the world of business in the metropolis of 
the universe, London. It is a fascinating book.” 

PMicah Clarke. 

“In this volume, A. Conan Doyle transports us to quite a different period of 
England’s history. The tale is placed in the time of the Cavaliers and Round- 
heads. The author is equally at home here as he was in the delightful story of 
The White Company.” 

‘Feyond the City. 

“A simple recital of tragedy and mystery in English family life. Quite unlike 
the author’s average story of warlike deeds and brave hearts. Beyond the City 
nevertheless possesses the true magnetism which obliges complete perusal once 
the opening chapter is read.” 

(vY Study in Scarlet. 

“In this weird book the reader first meets that most fascinating and incompre- 
hensible character, Sherlock Holmes, the detective. One had heard of him so 
much before, it is like renewing an old and loved acquaintance.” 

d/lt the Sign of the Four. 

“Here we behold again the wonderful deductive work of Sherlock Holmes in 
the tracing of crimes and criminals. Beyond question, he is the greatest detective 
creation of any time or language. The story is simply irresistible.” 



All the above works are bound uniform and printed on heavy white 
paper. Price, 25 cents. 

For sale hy all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postage free, on 
receipt of price, by the publishers, 

STREET & SMITH, New York. 


. . . THB NOVELS OP . . : 


Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. 

Bound in elegantly illustrated covers. 
Printed on fine paper. Price, 55 cents. 

This superb new edition of Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller's 
famous stories consists of the choicest this much admired 
authoress has written. Her works show a remarkable 
versatility, treating in turn of life in the highest circles of 
society and of the “simple annals of the poor.” No lover 
of wholesome and entertaining fiction can afford to leave 
them unread. 

List of the Volumes Now Ready, 


Brunette and Blonde* 
Rosamond* 

The Senator's Bride* 

Little Coquette Bonnie* 

A Little Southern Beauty* 
A Crushed Lily. 

Sweet Violet* 

Dora 


Pretty Geraldine* 

Lillian, My Lillian* . 
Bonnie Dora* 

An Old Man^s Darling* 
The Bride of the Tomb* 
Queenie^s Terrible Secret* 
A Dreadful Temptation* 
Tenney* 


tiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 


All of these stories are copyrighted and bear the imprint 
of our firm only. For sale by all booksellers and news- 
dealers, or sent, postage free, on receipt of price, by the 
publishers, 


STREET & SMITH, New York. 


Three Sterling Novels 



By the celebrated author of In a Looking Glass,^^ 

^ ^ F. C. PHILIPS. ^ 


N O MALE author of the present day has shown such a keen and 
sympathetic appreciation of that wonderful mystery, a woman’s 
heart, as F. C. Philips. Indeed, the question has often been asked 
whether this name is not merely a veil concealing the identity of a clever 
woman. 


Margaret Byng. 

Printed on fine paper and hound in illuminated cover. 

Price, - - 25 Cents. 

The heroine of this tale is undoubtedly one of the strongest creations in fiction. Her 
adventures in the gaming-halls of Monte Carlo, her subsequent connection with the 
mystery of a murder committed in a railway carriage and the solution of the same, com- 
bine to make a narrative of startling intensity. 


A Lucky Young Woman. 

Bound uniform with the above, with handsome pictured cover. 
Price, •• 25 Cents. 

An admirable portrait of certain phases of English high life. The book reads from 
cover to cover with crispness and sincerity. It is one of those stories whose close we 
regret ever to have reached. 


Little Mrs. Murray. 

Bound uniform with the above, adorned with a handsome 
pictured cover. 

Price, 25 Cents. 

The charming autobiographical form of this story has much in common with the 
author’s first success, “As In a Looking Glass.” But one follows the career of Little 
Mrs. Murray with much greater avidity because she is an eminently attractive character. 
Her brief term on the stage might serve as a lesson for those who think life on the boards 
is as bright as the glow of footlights; and later, her remarkable experience as matron in 
a mad house brings about a sudden and quite unlooked for denouement. 


Any or all of the above volumes can be procured from the booksellers and newsdealers, or 
will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

STREET <£ SMITH. New YORK. 


A Modern Classic. 



T he rise and decline of the kings of the pen are much like those of 
kings of the sword. Some gain Fame’s proudest pinnacle swiftly, 
only to lose it as promptly; but the rise of ROBERT LOUIS STEV- 
ENSON was as meteoric as his position has remained assured. Cut off in 
the prime of his days, the works of his few years of labor, which brought 
him into glory at a bound, still stand the test of the keenest criticism an(f 
hold their own as classics of English and models of the story teller’s art. 

Kidnapped. 

IBound in handsomelj^ pictured covers, printed on fine paper. 

Price, •• 25 Cents, 

“This is no furniture for the scholar’s library, but a book for the winter 
evening school-room, when the tasks are over and the hour for bed draws near; 
and honest Alan, who was a grim old fire-eater in his day, has in this new avatar 
no more desperate purpose than to steal some young gentleman’s attention from 
his Ovid, carry him awhile into the Highlands and the last century, and pack him 
to bed with some engaging images to mingle with his dreams.” — R. L. S. 

The Master of Ballantrae. 

^ound in handsomely pictured covers, printed on fine paper. 

Price, • - 25 Cents, 

“Here is a tale which extends over many years and travels into many countries 
By a peculiar fitness of circumstance the writer began, continued it and concluded 
it among distant and divers scenes. Above all, he was much upon the sea. 1 he 
character and fortune of the fraternal enemies, the hall and shrubbery of Durris- 
deer, the problem of MacKellar’s homespun and how to shape it for superior 
flights: these were his company on deck in many star-reflecting harbors, ran 
often injiis mind at sea to the tune of slatting canvas, and were dismissed (some- 
thing of the suddenest) on the approach of squalls .” — From the Author’ s Dedicatory 
Letter. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, 
postage free, on receipt oj price, by the publishers, 

STREET &■ SMITH, New York. 


Alexander Dumas. 

tA selected number of this immortal 
, . . author’s romances . . . 

Edmond Dantes. 

The Count of Monte Christo. 

The Three Musketeers. 

Twenty Years After. 

The Vicomte of Bragelonne. 
Louise de la Valliere. 

The Man in the Iron Mask. 


No novel reader can, with justice, claim the title unless 
he is acquainted with the above representative works of 
the French Scott. '‘1 love d’Artagnan,” says Thackeray 
in his delightful little essay on the heroes of fiction. 
The whole world has taken up the strain and carried it 
out through the long line of semi-historic personages 
whom ‘ ALEXANDRE THE GREAT,” as Andrew Lang 
calls him, has conceived and bodied forth for the infinite 
delectation of posterity. 

These volumes are adorned with splendidly illustrated 
covers and printed in large type on fine paper. Price, 
25 cents. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, 
postage free on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

STREET & SMITH. New York. 


BERTHA M. CLAY. 


iiiiiiiiiiatiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 


T he successor to this world-famous novelist has not yet appeared; 

and from the present outlook it will be long ere a worthy rival of 
the author of Dora Thorne will be discovered on the literary horizon. 
Her pen-pictures of the cream of the British nobility have never been 
equalled; her ability to weave a plot, full of tenderness, mystery and 
passion, remains unrivalled. It is a positive relief to recur to these old 
friends — healthy, warm-hearted women, handsome, aristocratic men, who 
lived, loved and won or lost, according to their fate, after the deluge of 
nauseabond, neurotic modern fiction that has been inundating our reading 
tables for the past two or three years. 

Many of the novels here listed are copyrighted and can be read only 
under our imprint. 


The Duke’s Secret 
Wife in Name Only 
A Fiery Ordeal 

Fair, but Faithless 
Another Man's Wife 
Between Two Hearts 
Twixt Love and Hate 
A Woman's Temptation 
Beyond Pardon 
Put Asunder 
Between Two Loves 
Under a Shadow 
The Earl’s Atonement 
Repented at Leisure 
Weaker than a Woman 
Dora Thorne 
A Golden Heart 
A Mad Love 
A Heart’s Bitterness 
A Heart's Idol 
In Love's Ciucible 
Marjorie Deane 
Gladys Greye 

Another Woman’s Husband 
Violet Lisle 
The Squire’s Darling 
Wedded and Parted 


The Story of the Wedding ^ 

Evelyn's Folly 

Love Works Wonders 

A Bitter Atonement 

Lady Darner’s Secret 

Lady Hutton’s Ward 

Her Martyrdom 

The Belle of Lynn 

Prince Charlie’s Daughter 

Which Loved Him Best? 

A Broken Wedding-Ring 
A True Magdalen 
For Another’s Sin 
Her Second Love 
A Struggle for a Ring 
The Shadow of a Sin 
A Woman's War. 

Claribel’s Love Story 
An Ideal Love 
From Out the Gloom 
Thorns and Orange Blossoms 
Thrown on the World 
Lord Lynne’s Choice 
Sunshine and Roses 
Lord Lisle’s Daughter 
A Thorn in Her Heart 
His Wife’s Judgment 


For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postage free on 
receipt of orice, by the publishers, 


STREET & SMITH. New York. 





MISSOURI 


KANSAS 


INDIAN TERRITORY, 


MEXICO ^ 


CALIFORNIA 


FREE RECLININa CHAIR CARS OH ALL TRAINS. 


THROUGH WAGNER PALACE BUFFET SLEEPING CARS 
FROM THE TO THE 

OE' JVCE^XIOO* 


For further information call on or address your nearest 
Ticket Agent, or 

G, P, & T. A. 

3t. HiOlxis* TwTo. 


There is littk* oeea o: -“mphasizing the FACT that the 

Maine Central 
Railroad 

Has been the developer of Bar H arbor, and has ma^ this incomparable summei 

home the 

Crown of the Atlantic Coaste 

ANO - 

The Natural Wonders of the White Mountains, 

The Wierd Grandeur of the Dixville Notch, 

The Quaint Ways and Scenes of Quebec, 

The Multifarious Attractions of Montreal, 

The Elegance of Poland Springs, 

The Inexhaustible Fishing of Rangeley. 

The Unique Scenery of Moosehead, 

The Remarkable Healthful ness of St. Andrews. 

Are all within contact of the ever-lengthening: arms 
of the Maine Central Railroad* 

The Renowned Vacation Line* 

Or, to those who enjoy Ocean Sailing, the statement is made that the pio- 
neer line along the coast of Maine, making numerous landings at picturesque 
points, almost encircling the Island of Mt. Desert is the 

Portland, Mt. Desert and 
Machias Steamboat Co. 

The New, Large and Luxurious Steamer, “Frank Jones,” makes, during the 
summer season, two round trips per week between Portland, Rockland, Bar Har- 
bor and Machiasport. 

Illustrated outlines, details of transportation, and other information upon ap- 
plication to 

F. E. BOOTHBY, GEO. P. EVANS, 

G. P. and T, Agt, Gen. Mgr. 


Portland, Mb. 



Ft. Wap, Cincinnati, and LoiusviUe Railroad. 

“Natural Gas Roate.” Tlie PoBalar Sliort Lina 


BETWEEN 

Peoria, Bloomington, Chicago, St, Louis, Springfield, Lafayette, 
Frankfort, Muncic, Portland, Lima, Findlay, Fostoria, 
Fremont, Sandusky, Indianapolis, Kokomo, Pern, 
Rochester, Plymouth, LaPorte, Michigan 
City, Ft. Wayne, Hartford, Blufifton, 
Connorsvillc, and Cincinnati, making 

Direct Connections for all Points East, West, North and South. 


THE ONLY LINE TRAVERSING 

THE GREAT NATURAL GAS AND OIL FIELDS 

Of Ohio and Indiana, giving the patrons of this Popular Route an 
opportunity to witness the grand sight from the train as they pass 
through. Great fields covered with tanks, in which are stored millions 
of gallons of oil, Natural Gas wells shooting their flames high in the 
air, and the most beautiful cities, fairly alive with glass and all kinds 
of factories. 

We furnish our patrons with Elegant Reclining Chair Car Seats 
Free, on day trains, and L. E. & W. Palace Sleeping and Parlor Cars, 
on night trains, at very reasonable rates. 

Direct connections to and from Cleveland, Buffalo, New York, 
Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Pittsburg, Washington, Kansas City, 
Denver, Omaha, Portland, San Francisco, and all points in the United 
Stales and Canada. 

This is the popular route with the ladies, on account of its cour- 
teous and accommodating train officials, and with the commercial 
traveler and general public tor its comforts, quick time and sure 
connections. » 

For any further particulars call on or address any Ticket Agent. 

CEO. L. Bradbury, Chas. F. Daly, 

Vice-President & Gen’l Mgr. Gen’l Pass. & Tkt. Agt. 
INDIANAPOLIS, IND. 


the: 

DELAWARE 

HUDSON 
RAILROAD. 

THE ONLY DIRECT ROUTE TO THE GREAT 

ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS, 

Lake George, Lake Champlain, Ausable Chasm, the Adirondack 
Hotintains, Saratoga, Bound Lake, Sharon Spring's, 
Cooperstown, Howe’s Cave, and the Celebrated 
Gravity Bailroad between Carbondale 
and Honesdale, Pa., present the 
Gxeatest Combination of Health and Pleasure Besorts In 

The Direct line to the Superb Summer Hotel 
OF THE North, 

“THE HOTEL CHAMPLAIN,” 

(Tliree Miles Soutli of Plattsburgh, on Lake Champlain.) 

THE SHORTEST AND MOST COMFORTABLE ROUTE 
BETWEEN NEW YORK AND MONTREAL. 


Zn Connection with the Erie Bailway, the most Picture8q.TUI 
and Interesting- Boute between Chicag-o and Boston* 

The only through Pullman line* 

Inclose Six Cents in Stamps for Illnstrated Gnide to 

4. G. YOUNG, J. W. BURDICK, 

Sd Tioe-President. ^ Seal Pass. Agent, Alhanjr, K' £ 



The New England 

RAirvRO-A.r> oo. 

Travelers Between 

NEW YORK AND BOSTON 

Should always ask for tickets via the 

“Air Line” Limited Train, 

Leaving either city 1.00 P. IW., week 
days only, due destination, 6.00 P. M* 

BUFFET SMOKER, PARLOR CARS AND COACHES. 

Trains Arrive at and Leave from 
Park Square Station, Boston. 

Ticket amcetti ^ House, Park Square StatlOM, Bostom 

\Qrand Central Station, New York. 


The Norwich Line, 

INSIDE ROUTE. 

Steamers Leave Pier 40 . North River, New York, 5. 30 P, W. week dayt 
only. Connecting at New London with Steamboat Express. 

Train due Worcester, 8.00 A. M., Boston, 10.00 A. NL 

RETURNING. 

Traill Leave Boston 7.02 P. M., Worcester 8.00 P. M., week days only. 
Connecting at New London with Steamers of the 
Line due New York 7.00 A. M. 

Norwiih Line trains leave and arrive Kneeland St. Station (Plymouth Div^ 
N. Y., N. H. & H. Rd.), Boston, 
tickets, Staterooms on Steamers, and full information at offices, 

Pier 40 , North River, . . NEW YORK. 

3 Old State House, . . . . r 
Kneeland St. Station (Plymouth ) BOSTON. 

Div. N. Y., N, H. & H. Rd.) ( 

R. BABCOCK^ General Passenger Ageatt Bomtuo, 

kkT It. 


JUST TO REMIND YOU 



The Intercolonial Rahwat 

CONNEGTINQ 

HALIFAX, ST, JOHN, 

SYDNEY AND QUEBEO 

IS THE POPULAR ROUTE FOR SUMMER TRAVEL 

UNEQUALLED FOR MAGNIFICENT SCENERY* 

Starting at QUEBEC it skirts for TWO HUNDRED MII.ES /he 
MAJESTIC ST. LAWRENCE RIVER, thence through the FAAT’ :U3 
LAKE, MOUNTAIN and VALLEY region of the 

METAPEDIA AND RESTiCOUCHE RIVERS 

and on to the WORLD-RENOWNED BRAS D’OR LAKES in Cape Brrtorr. 

Connecting at Point du Chene, N. B., and Picton, N. S., for PR'i/^CB 
EDWARD ISLAND, '‘THE GARDEN OF THE GULF.” 

No other railway in America presents to PLEASURE SEEKy^RS, 
'invalids and SPORTSMEN so many unrivalled attractions. 

The ONLY ALL RAIL ROUTE between HALIFAX and ST. JOHN. 

GEO. W. ROBINSON, . • • Eastern Freight and Passenger rgen^ 

128 St. James Street, (opp. St. Lawrence Hall), MontreaL 

W. WEATHERSTON, Western Freight and Passenger ^.gent^ 

93 York Street, Rossin House Block, Toronto. 

Maps, Time Tables ami Guide Books free on applleatioa. 

Da POTTINCER, UNO. Mo LYONS, 

Ctneral Manager. General Pasa. , gef* 

MONCTON. N. GL, CANADA. 




CHARGES RARREU. 


■^EODUCED AND NOW BEING PRESENTED THROUGHOUT 
pE COUNTRY BY JAS.H.WALLICK^'se^^^ 

pEET & 6niTn. PUbLlSMEP^. NEW XORK 


DRAMA SERIES 


Usued weekly. By anbecrlption $13 per year Nor. 13, 1895 
Kntered as second-class matte at N. Y. post-oftice 


NO. SS 


The Drama Series. 


Price, Paper Edition, 25 Cents, 

These famous plays have been transformed into novels 
by talented writers. The only series of novelized 
dramas. 

1 — Gismonda. By Victorien Sardou. 

. . 3 — La Tosca. By Victorien Sardou. 

. . 4 — Fedora. By Victorien Sardou. 

5 — Cleopatra. By Victorien Sardou. 

6 — Denman Thompson’s Old Homestead. 

7 — The County Fair. By Neil Burgess. 

. . . 8 — Ingomar. By Nathan D. Urner. 

9— The Cotton King. By Sutton Vane. 

11 — Camille. By Alexandre Dumas, fils. 

. . . 12 — A Parisian Romance. By Octave Feuillet. 

13 — The Danicheflfs. By Alexandre Dumas. 

. . . 14 — The Corsican Brothers. By Alexandre Dumas. 

15 — Carmen. By Prosper Merimee. 

16 — Forbidden Fruit. By Dion Boucicault. 

17 — Led Astray. By Octave Feuillet. 

18 — In Sight of St. Paul’s. By Sutton Vane. ' 

20 — The Grip of Iron. From the celebrated play. 

, . .21 — The Two Orphans. By Adolphe D’Ennery. 

. . .22 — Around the World in Eighty Days. By Jules Verne. 

23 — John Needham’s Double. By J oseph Hatton. 

24— Mavourneen. From the celebrated play. 

25— For Fair Virginia. By Russ Whytal. 

26 — Darkest Russia. By H. Grattan Donnelly. 

. . .27 — Humanity. By Sutton Vane 
. . .28— Northern Lights. By Harkins and Barbour 

29 — Saved from the Sea By Shirley and Landeck. 

HO — The Span of Life. By Sutton Vane. 

31 — Captain Impudence. "By Edwin Milton Royle. 

32— The Cattle King By A. D. Hall. 

. . 33 — When London Sleeps. By Charles Darrell. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent 
postage free on receipt of price, by the publishers. 

STREET & SMITH, New York. 


The Paris Series 

OF 

i^ieE^:ivon :ivove^IvS. 
Pricey Paper Edition y 25 Cents, 


This series embraces the best Knosvn and most 
desirable works of the greatest of modern French novel- 
ists. It contains stories by Alphonse Daudet, Victor Hugo, 
Adolphe Belot, Alexandre Dumas, etc. 

. 1 — Jack. By Alphonse Daudet. 

2 — Sappho. By Alphonse Daudet. 

3— The Partners. By Alphonse Daudet 
V 4— Toilers of the Sea. By Victor Hugo. 

5 — The Hunchback of Notre Dame. By Victor Hugo. 

6 — Han of Iceland By Victor Hugo. 

7 — The Tragedy in the Rue de la Paix. By Adolphe Belot. 

8 — Lies. By Paul Bourget 

9 — Belle- Rose. By Amedee Achard. 

10 — Edmond Dantes. By Alexandre Dumas. 

11 — The Count of Monte Cristo. By Alexandre Dumas. 

12 — The Three Musketeers. By Alexandre Dumas. 

13 — Twentv Years After. By Alexandre Dumas. 

14 — The Vicomte de Bragelonne. By Alexandre Dumas. 

1.5 — Louise de la Valliere. By Alexandre Dumas. 

16 — The Man in the Iron Mask. By Alexandre Dumas. 

17 — Coralie’s Son. By Albert Delpit. 

1 8 — Sealed Lips. By Leon de Tinseau. 

19 — Germinie Lacerteux. By E. and J. de Goncourt. 

20 — The Chouans. By Honore de Balzac. 

21 — Her Royal Lover. By Ary Ecilaw. 

22 — Hector Servadac. By Jules Verne 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent 
postage free on receipt of price, by the publishers. 

STREET & SMITH, New York. 


I miwt 1$ a nowi aioni)? » 

€ For years Novek and Magazines have been sold at ^ 

^ prices ranging from 25 to 50 Cents* Improved J 

5 machinery has decreased the cost of production^ and ^ | 

M the Ten Cent Magazine has become an established ^ i 

4 fact. ^ Now the Eagle Library is offered ^ 

€ to the public as the original first quality novel at P 

j Cen Cents ^ ^ j 

J The Eagle Library is not composed of poor stories P 

^ printed on cheap paper* ^ ^ The Eagle ^ 

^ Library is not a collection of unsalable books of- \ 

% fered at reduced prices because they cannot be sold ^ 

J otherwise* ^ ^ ^ The Eagle Library is not J 

J a series of stories by unknown authors* ^ ^ ^ 

J Cfte €agk Dbrary { 

H Is offered at Teia Cents because that is the correct & 

^ modem price for a first class copyright noveL ^ 

i In these books the type is clear and legible^ the ft 

• paper of good quality^ the stories by the best J 

J known popular authors^ the covers of most attrac- P ,■ 

m tive design and ^ ^ m \ 

i De Price i$ RigM 5 1 

ft ft 1 

M Read one and you will want another* ^ i 

4 Do not be fooled by inferior books at a higher price* ft ' 

ft The Eagle Library is published by ft 


Street % Smltft, new Sork. 



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